265 Hours
by WishfulWriting
Summary: PreMovie story. Teenage Jack decides to test his ability to stay awake. Drama should ensue.
1. Chapter 1

**265 Hours**

** CHAPTER ONE

* * *

**

When Jack came home from school looking mischievously excited, Bobby was suspicious. He didn't remember learning anything in high school that made for that kind of excitement, nothing they taught you _in _class anyway, but the fifteen year old looked pretty eager about something.

"Hey," Bobby greeted him from the couch as the kid dropped his book bag on the floor. He was intrigued. "What's that grin about?"

"You're home early," Jack answered.

"Practice let out," Bobby answered, referring to the League's hockey schedule. "What're you so happy about?"

"Not _happy_ about anything."

"No?" Bobby raised his eyebrows. Jack was going through his dark, emotional, 'no one understands me and my music' phase, which often resulted in sulky, brooding looks and limited conversations. Bobby was started to get used to Jack having these phases. It was for this reason he found the smirk on Jack's face amusing. "Is it a girl?"

Jack looked surprised. "No."

Bobby frowned. He squinted at Jack's worn Metallica t-shirt as he tried to think to himself what else it could be. "A boy?"

"No, Bobby." Jack gave him an annoyed look. "It's not a person."

"Not a person…" Bobby persisted. It was now a game to him, trying to figure it out. He leaned back against the couch cushion, taking a sip of his beer. "Then what… What could it be…"

"Hey, can I have a beer?" Jack looked at him pleadingly.

Bobby hesitated and glanced at the clock. Ma wouldn't be home for a few hours. He glanced at Jack again and shrugged. "Yeah, if you bring me another one too." He finished the last bit in his own can.

Jack flashed a very quick smile as he disappeared into the kitchen. He came back moments later, handing Bobby a can as he dropped down next to him on the couch.

"So it's not a person…" Bobby started as he snapped open his new beer. "What is it?"

"A theory."

Bobby gave Jack a disgusted look. Here was his self-determined proxy, excited over a _theory_? Bobby wasn't even sure what that meant. "Jack. What the fuck does that mean?"

"In school today…" Jack started.

"Don't give me some nerdy theory from a science class and tell me it's got you all hot and bothered," Bobby muttered. "Please tell me I raised you better than that."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Listen. It happened to be a science class but—"

Bobby shook his head and took Jack's beer out of his hand teasingly. "No more. Not if this is what you bring me."

"Bobby…" Jack laughed, taking his beer back. "Listen…"

"It's just bad enough," Bobby began as he wiped the condensation from the can off his hand onto his jeans, "that you listen to that pussy music all day locked in your room, but now I find out you get keyed up over science?"

"You're not listening." Jack took a sip of his beer.

"Okay, I'll listen. But if the words coming out of your mouth don't change we're gonna have a problem."

"Just give me a chance. I'm trying to tell you."

"Go ahead." Bobby sighed.

"Okay, in class people were giving reports on things… It was pretty broad about what people could do it on. And one of the guys did it on sleep."

"Sleep," Bobby echoed. "Riveting, Jackie. Just riveting."

Jack tried to ignored Bobby's sarcasm and explain himself. "And sleep deprivation."

"I think I just wet myself."

Jack glared at Bobby. "Can I talk?"

"You are. Keep going." Bobby gestured with his hand.

"Okay, and so this one guy in my class, he talked about sleep deprivation and about this kid who went 264 hours without sleeping, just to prove he could." Jack gave Bobby an insistent look and noticed Bobby's eyes were on the TV. "Bobby, are you listening?"

"Yeah, I am," Bobby said, eyes not moving from the screen. "264 hours just to prove he could. Sounds like a stupid kid. How many days is that?"

"Eleven."

Bobby shook his head. "Crazy. I can barely pull an all-nighter. I love my sleep, man."

"He made the Guinness Book of World Records, Bobby."

"The only Guinness I care about is the one I can drink, Jack, I'm sorry."

Jack took a deep breath. "Well, even though you're not listening to me, I'd like you to know that I'm going to do it."

"Do it?" Bobby frowned and looked over at him. "Do what?"

"Beat the record."

"Jack…"

"It just so happens that next week we all have to create our own science projects. And I figured what better one to do than this, and beat a record at the same time? I would just keep track of what happens."

Bobby took a sip of his beer. "Do you remember what it's like to wake you to go to school in the morning?"

"Now no one has to. Because I won't be asleep."

"You can't just not sleep, Jack. You fall asleep whether you want to or not."

"This kid didn't."

"Jack. Come on. Grow up… You're not doing it."

"Are you saying it because you don't think I _can _do it?" Jack asked. "Or because you don't want to let me try?"

"Both." Bobby figured he covered all territory with that. "It's a stupid idea, brainiac. No wonder your grades in school aren't very good."

"Well, I'm doing it whether you like it or not." Jack was persistent. "I'm only telling you because I wanted to tell you, not because I was asking permission. I don't need your permission."

"You know, I appreciate the whole stubborn, teenage rebellion thing lately, Jack, I really do, but why don't you do it on something a little more worthwhile?"

"It's for science, Bobby."

"Do you really think that's a compelling argument for me?" Bobby sighed. "I mean, seriously." He studied Jack's expression and then said, "What if I agreed that I think you can do it, then do you still have to do it?"

"I don't _know _if I can do it, that's why I want to try."

"So me saying I think you can isn't worth anything?"

"I'm still gonna try it. I'm starting tonight."

"Alcohol is a depressant." Bobby watched Jack take another long drink from his can of beer. "Meaning it makes you tired."

Jack shrugged, cursing Bobby under his breath as he pushed himself off the couch and started walking away. He realized that it was stupid to think Bobby would be supportive of the idea.

"Jack, you'll be asleep tonight. No doubt about it," Bobby replied, watching him walk away. "And hey…" Jack wasn't turning around, so it said his name louder. "_Jack_."

Jack turned and leaned in the doorway, giving him an annoyed look.

Bobby rolled his eyes at the lanky teenager. "Don't you leave beer cans in your room. Ma will blame me, you know."

"I like it better when you're not home," Jack muttered, turning again to leave the room.

Bobby felt a pang of something, whether insult or surprise he wasn't sure. He had it in his head that Jack loved, even if he hid it internally, whenever Bobby was home. "Get your ass over here!" he barked, dumfounded. Jack didn't turn back but he continued. "No you don't! Who buys you beer when I'm gone?"

"Angel!" Jack yelled back.

Next Bobby simply heard Jack's pounding footsteps up the stairs. He set his jaw, half missing the submissive child Jack that tiptoed around the house and did everything he said without him having to tell him more than a couple times. Jack had matured and was starting to turn into his own person. It was more evident each time Bobby came home, and especially when he had been gone for an extended period of time.

Most of the time Bobby thought it was about damn time Jack grew up. He could finally drink with him and talk to him about more than monsters in the closet.

He still hated anything one-on-one, which was evident in how he ran away every time Bobby raised his voice even slightly. Bobby was always frustrated in how easily Jack would turn away from him, ever since he was a little boy. He'd gotten slightly better. After all, you had to learn to stand up for yourself in this house.

* * *

Bobby walked into the dining room later, finding Evelyn and Jack talking, and Jack was explaining his premise to her. She had a discouraging but half-interested look on her face.

"His name's Randy Gardner," Jack finished. "You can look him up."

"And he didn't sleep for 264 hours?" Evelyn asked, holding a cup of tea between her hands on the table.

"Yeah, when he was 17. It was 1964. But I would do it for 265. Since my goal is to beat him."

"I didn't know you were that competitive, Jack. How long is that?"

"Eleven days. Well, mine would be eleven days and one hour."

"Why one more hour? Why not just another minute?" Bobby asked from the doorway.

Jack turned in his chair and glared. "Shut up."

"Bobby…" Evelyn began disapprovingly. "Are you supporting this, too?"

"Supporting?" Bobby echoed. "Ma, you've got to be kidding me."

"Okay, then," she looked relieved. "Jack, honey… It sounds like an interesting science experiment… but not one very good for your health."

"My health is fine," Jack persisted. "It's in the name of science."

"I never knew you had a particular interest in science," she answered. "Didn't your teacher maybe suggest any other projects?"

"No, she said to do what we want. And this is what I want," he said stubbornly.

Evelyn frowned. "Sweetheart… I don't even understand how it's science."

"It is though. It's observing the effects on the body from no sleep."

"People die without sleep."

He scowled. "I'd sleep before I'd die." He look exasperated. "C'mon, let's be real."

"You sleep when you die," Bobby pointed out. "In fact, there's plenty of time for sleeping when you're dead, so hell, with that logic, then—"

"Shut up, Bobby!" Jack responded agitatedly.

"—why ever sleep at all when we're alive?" Bobby finished.

Jack looked frustrated. "It's for school."

"It's for pissing people off, that's what it's for," Bobby muttered.

"Bobby, Jack…" Evelyn shook her head. "Calm down, and let's talk about this. Jack, I'm happy you enjoyed listening to the report on this… Randy Gardner, but I've never heard of him, and—"

"Peter Tripp too. In 1959 he did it too… 201 hours."

"While the trivia is impressive…" she persisted.

"Don't patronize me," he insisted irritably. "I'm doing it."

"Just let him," Bobby said as he moved to sit at the table as well. "He's not going to be able to do it. I've seen him fall asleep just watching a movie. Never mind after eleven days of trying to stay awake."

"I can too do it," Jack objected.

"Jack." Bobby gave him a critical look. "Remember when you tried to pull an all nighter for that biology test?"

"So? Biology is boring."

"I found you on the floor drooling all over your notes. Like fifteen cans of Coke—"

"Should have had Mountain Dew," Jack answered. "They have more caffeine."

"Regardless."

"Is it cheating to have caffeine?" Evelyn asked.

"No," Jack insisted. "Doctors were watching Tripp when he did it, and they had to give him drugs so he could stay awake."

"Jack… That seems a little ridiculous."

Bobby chuckled. "You really know how to support your case, Jackie."

"It was for a Telethon thing," Jack objected. "For, like, the March of Dimes or something. That's why he did it."

"Why did Randy Gardner do it?" Evelyn asked.

"To beat Tripp." Jack shrugged.

"And you're doing it to beat Gardner."

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Thrilling," Bobby muttered, ignoring Jack's defiant stare.

"Well…" Evelyn sipped her tea. "I don't think it's a good idea. And Bobby doesn't think it's a good idea. What did your teacher say?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. We haven't told her what we're doing yet."

"Well, I think you should talk to her about it, and see what she thinks."

"Well, I'm starting it tonight anyway," Jack insisted. "Because it'll take me eleven days, and then I need a day to sleep, and then I need to write the report on everything that happened."

She paused, taking another sip of tea, and then just frowned at him. "Honey."

"I'm doing it anyway."

"Well, I want you to think about what your brother and I think, and then you can decide."

Bobby gave Jack a look. Evelyn was prone to put the decision into Jack's hands so that he could decide for himself. He had been victim to the same psychology as a kid. Basically Evelyn knew you'd feel guilty enough to do the right then, with at least the comfort that you had made your own decision instead of being directly _told _you had to do one thing and not the other.

"Okay," Jack agreed. He drummed his fingers on the table, looking between the two of them for a minute, and then sighed contently and leaned back in his chair. "Thought about it. Starting tonight."

"Okay, Jack," she said with a shrug. "It's your decision."

Jack gave Bobby a victorious smug as he pushed his chair back, leaving the dining room. Bobby just watched him leave silently and then turned to look at Evelyn. "I'm not sure why I'm using my week off from practice to come home and watch him turn into a psycho."

She smiled. "Oh, Bobby."

"He won't do it."

"He'll try," she answered.

"Oh, he'll try. But he'll never make it through tonight."

She nodded hesitantly. "I have the inclination to agree with you… But what would you do if you were doing it?"

Bobby gave her an incredulous look. "Me? Ma, I'd never do anything as stupid as that."

"You've done stupider," she answered. "Trying not to sleep is pretty innocent compared to some of your stunts, Bobby Mercer."

"Okay fine." He rolled his eyes. "In hindsight, sure. But it's still stupid. And I wouldn't ever try not to _sleep_. I love sleep."

"But if that was your plan?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't, but if it was my plan, I would definitely actually do it, because I don't make plans that I'm not going to go through with."

"So what do you think he's going to do?"

Bobby sighed. "Even if he _wants _to do it, just to prove us wrong… It's not physically possible. He takes more naps than a three year old nowadays. There's no way he's going to be able to stay awake for eleven days."

She shrugged. "If he does, I figure he's punishing himself, and he'll learn either way."

"I guess."

"If you tell him no, it only makes him want to do it more."

"I know."

"Wouldn't you?"

"If I ever had such a stupid idea, well, then sure…" Bobby admitted. "But it _is _stupid."

"You and your brother are stubborn as mules, Bobby," Evelyn answered. "I wouldn't put anything this 'stupid' past either of you."

"Well, I'm not doing it. And I'm not some stupid high schooler so don't group me with him, Ma."

She laughed. "Okay, Bobby…"

* * *

"Thought I'd find you here…" Bobby said groggily as he entered the family room at four AM and found Jack sprawled on the couch in front of the TV.

Jack turned his head just slightly to view Bobby, who looked tired in shorts and t-shirt. Jack didn't feel too tired physically, but his eyes were getting tired from all the TV. He was starting to realize he was going to need to find something to other than that. "Yeah."

"Move over," Bobby persisted as he pushed Jack up so he could sit on the couch as well.

"Are you purposely checking up on me?" Jack began as he sat up and moved over. "Because if you're here to tell me to go to bed—"

"You can have your little game," Bobby answered, waving his hand at him tiredly like he didn't want to argue. "I don't give a shit."

"Then why are you up?"

"Because I just can't sleep," Bobby answered. "I usually wake up at least once during the night."

Jack just shrugged. "Fine."

"Fine," Bobby agreed. He watched the TV for a moment and then glanced over to look at Jack and study him. So far he looked no worse for the wear. He looked like his same stubborn self with his shaggy hair and sullen expression. No sleep deprivation showing yet.

"What?" Jack looked at him uneasily when he noticed Bobby's stare. "Stop." He reached up and put his hand on Bobby's face, pushing his cheek to make him look away. "Don't look at me."

Bobby shoved his hand away but looked at the TV anyway. "When did you start counting that you've been awake?" Bobby asked.

"Huh?"

"You have to start counting from somewhere."

"Oh. This morning when I got up for school," Jack said softly as he began counting on his fingers. "That was at six. So it's been… eighteen plus… four… Twenty two hours awake so far."

"Impressive." Bobby counted in his head. "243 to go?"

Jack nodded.

"You know, when you're done, if you ever are done…" Bobby said, "I'm not gonna be proud of you. I'm gonna call you an idiot and see how long you sleep for. Maybe cut your hair while you're sleeping it all off like a zombie."

Jack ran a hand through his blondish shaggy hair protectively, making a face. "I don't need you to be proud. I'm doing it for school."

"Why didn't you call Guinness World Records to come watch?"

"It's the Guinness Book of World Records, Bobby."

"That's what I said."

"No, it's not."

"What's the difference? What did I say?"

"Forget it, Bobby."

Bobby sighed. "How's anyone supposed to know you're actually doing it anyway?" he persisted.

"Whattaya mean?" Jack looked at him. "I'm keeping track of what happens."

"Well, I mean, I walked in and you're awake now… But no one's supervising or anything," Bobby explained. "You could sleep a few hours and no one would know the difference."

"Yeah, except I'm not."

"Which begs the question… How do we know?"

"You just fucking do," Jack answered.

"I bet Tripp and Sandy—"

"Randy, Bobby. It's Randy."

"Yeah, whatever. I bet they had people making sure they didn't fall asleep, right?"

Jack shrugged. "Maybe." He knew in fact they did. Tripp did it publicly and always had people around. Randy had his friends keeping him awake, constantly talking, playing pinball, basketball, or whatever would keep him from falling asleep. He was frustrated because he knew that Bobby was deep down making fun of him, and he couldn't stand that.

"So what's going to keep you awake?" Bobby insisted

"Me. I keep me awake."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "And when it gets tough?"

"Then I'll do stuff to stay awake. I'll walk around, I'll play music, I'll—"

"You're not going to be able to do it," Bobby laughed.

"Wanna make a bet?" Jack narrowed his eyes.

"No." Bobby shook his head with a smirk. "That would please you too much."

Jack grunted in annoyance. "You're a pain in the ass."

"Of course," Bobby answered. "Me. I'm the pain in the ass. Yup." He pressed his lips together, and looked down at Jack's hands where he was playing with his lighter absentmindedly. He thought of something. "Jackie, isn't this the same science class that like three weeks ago the teacher called Ma because you were burning pages in the textbook during class with your lighter?"

Jack scowled. "First off, I burnt a hole into _one _page, just one page. And second of all—"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because. The paper was real thin and I was out of papers to roll with so I thought if that burned the right way I could—"

"God dammit, Jack." Bobby gave him a look.

"How do you even _know _about that?" Jack returned, giving Bobby a petulant look. "Ma never even said anything to _me_ about it."

"Ma fills me in on all you guys' shit when I talk to her on the phone," Bobby answered with a sigh. "When you're naughty and nice." He paused. "Besides, she knows I'm the real pyro so she thought I'd get a kick out of it."

"Whatever."

"Don't do it again. Especially in school. That's bad news."

"Whatever."

"I'm serious, man. Fire in school is no joke."

Jack frowned at him. "Stop, Bobby. You're so…"

"So what?"

"Just stop telling me what to _do_," Jack insisted.

"Well, just don't get suspended, Jack."

"I never have."

Bobby shook his head and looked down at the lighter again in Jack's hand. Then he noticed the dark marks on Jack's left wrist and paused. "What's that?" he asked. He recognized what they were. His eyes glanced from the lighter back to the wrist. They were burn marks, and he'd never seen them before.

Jack flicked the lighter on. "What's what?" he answered obliviously.

Bobby felt his light mood start to fade, replaced by a mixed feelings. He wasn't going to jump to any conclusions but he felt a mix of dread, regret, and just plain defeat. "Your wrist, Jack."

Jack stopped playing with his lighter and looked down at his wrist like he had no idea what Bobby was talking about. But Bobby saw the flush that took over Jack's cheeks as he frowned and shook his head. "Oh, I don't know. Nothing," he replied.

"Nothing," Bobby echoed. "No, don't hide it," he objected as Jack turned his hand over, giving a view of his forearm instead. "Jack. Don't hide it."

Jack frowned and suddenly looked uncertain, flustered even. "I…"

Bobby remembered when Jack first came to them, wearing long sleeves in the heat of the summer so hide the bruises on his arms and body like he was either ashamed or taught to hide them. Bobby even remembered him once skinning the palm of his hand outside when he was playing with Jerry. For days he kept his hand clenched or his sleeve pulled down long like it was out of reflex.

Now, with a t-shirt on, Jack looked confused and agitated, like he didn't know what the next move was when he was revealed.

"Oh, I think it was from when I was cooking," he continued, voice faltering just slightly. "On the oven range, and I—"

"That's bullshit. You think I like being lied to?"

"I'm not lying," Jack protested. "I—" He cut himself off when he met Bobby's eye, and quickly looked away. "It's nothing."

"I said, don't lie to me," Bobby said firmly.

Jack nodded, staring ahead at the TV as he slouched down a little bit more.

"What's it from?" Bobby persisted. "Let's not drag this out."

Jack said nothing, continuing to stare at the TV. He just shook his head, tight-lipped.

"Jack," Bobby persisted. "You're not a baby anymore. That silent stuff hasn't worked on me in a while. I know you can hear me."

"I can't."

"What'd you do?" Bobby persisted, his voice more confused now than stern. He reached over to take Jack's left arm. "Just show me."

"I didn't _do _anything," Jack answered reflexively as he reluctantly let Bobby take his arm. Bobby was gentle this way, and he knew that if he protested Bobby would just get frustrated and still not take no for an answer.

Bobby ran his finger across the underside of his wrist, eyeing the marks. There weren't many, but enough that he stared. A couple were faded on his pale skin, blending in with the small veins of his wrist.

After a moment, Jack pulled his arm away and stuck it between himself and the arm of the couch protectively, eyes remaining fixed to the TV screen.

"You did that?" Bobby asked suspiciously. Jack didn't respond for a few seconds and then just shrugged hesitatingly. But Bobby knew what that shrug meant. "Why?"

Jack's eyes remained on the TV as he slowly spoke. "Really, Bobby… Let's not do this." His voice was deeper, steadier, but there was undoubtedly the same scared kid behind it.

"You did it to yourself," Bobby repeated. "Has Ma seen that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Bobby…"

"You think I'm going to drop this?"

Jack knew he wasn't. He just wished that he would. He turned his wrist just a little and glanced at the marks. It was nothing. He told Bobby that again. "Really. I was bored, or whatever, and…" He shrugged.

"So let me try to understand… You're bored… So you decide to burn holes in yourself…"

Jack swallowed. The way Bobby phrased anything could make Jack's point of view look so ridiculous. Which in this case was probably fairly accurate, but he still didn't think it was that big of a deal. "Oh fuck, come on. There's no holes in myself."

"Jack, I don't even know what to say to you."

"It doesn't even hurt, really," Jack persisted. "And it'll fade. Here, look." He picked up his lighter and lit it. "I'll show you, it doesn't even hurt."

Before he could do anything else, Bobby snatched the lighter out of his hand and shoved it into his pocket. "Fuck you," he said stiffly. "Fuck you, Jack."

"Bobby," Jack objected. He reached for Bobby's pocket, but the man caught his wrist tightly.

"You listen to me," Bobby began, giving him a stern look. He saw Jack's head start to turn and quickly said, "No, no, you look at me, too." Jack's eyes slowly drifted back towards him, and he continued. "I'm not giving your lighter back until you give me a God damn _reason_ why. Fucking boredom is not an answer."

"Why? Why anything, Bobby? I don't know what you want, because it's nothing." Jack shook his wrist free.

"It's _not _nothing. It's hurting yourself."

Jack made a face. "It didn't hurt. I told you it didn't."

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about it, but just I need you to."

"Bobby, it's four o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah. With 243 hours to go, remember? You've got plenty of time to try to explain this to me."

"There's nothing to explain."

"Nothing?"

"_Nothing_," Jack persisted.

"Fine. I'll ask Ma if she thinks it's nothing tomorrow and then we'll decide." Bobby leaned back into the couch, arms folded across his chest.

Jack suddenly glared at him. "First off, I'm sick of you pretending like you're my father, Bobby, because you're _not_. So stop fucking talking to Evelyn about every little thing I do, like it's your job or something to tell me what to do. I'm sick of it. You're not even here half the time anymore so—"

"Oh, fuck off, Jack."

"I'm serious, Bobby," Jack answered stiffly. "I'm sick of it."

Bobby grew exasperated. "I'm not your fucking father, Jack, that's right. I wouldn't dream of it. But I'm sorry if I see that you're burning your fucking arm with your lighter because you're 'bored' and I can't just not give a shit. What do you expect, huh? You expect me really not to fucking care?"

"Yes!" Jack answered. "Because it's _nothing_!"

Bobby knew he'd hit a nerve somehow, because it was seldom Jack ever raised his voice about anything. But he wasn't going to drop it. He didn't know what to say, but he definitely wasn't going to drop it.

Bobby was silent and that made Jack even more uncomfortable. He wanted his lighter back and he wanted Bobby just to go to bed and forget about all of it. "Just give me back the lighter, Bobby. I need a cigarette."

"No. I told you, not till you explain."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Oh, please, Jack. You don't give me any incentive to trust you right now."

"What is this about _trust_?" Jack answered. "Forget it." He pushed himself up off the couch. "Keep the fucking lighter. Not like I haven't got like a half dozen others."

"Jack," Bobby said, realizing his tone was kind of harsh but not caring. "Don't. Come here. Don't walk away from me."

Jack turned and gave Bobby a look. "It's _nothing_. Please, stop."

"Nothing," Bobby echoed. He patted the sat beside him. "Sit."

"No, Bobby, I—"

"Sit, Jack."

"What are you going to say?"

"While you're standing there? I'm just going to say _sit, Jack_," Bobby insisted.

Jack reluctantly walked back over to sit, a miserable look on his face. "Listen, Bobby, you judge everything like this. And it's nothing. Absolutely nothing. It didn't hurt. It fades. It's not this big thing. You act like I slit my wrists or something."

Bobby gave him a look.

"_What_," Jack persisted. "I don't know what you're looking for me to say, Bobby, but there's nothing else about it. For fuck's sake…"

"Never do it again."

"Oh, gimme a break, Bobby. You act like—"

"Never," Bobby repeated, "do it again."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sure. If you'll shut up about it."

"You think I'm not serious."

"You're quite serious," Jack answered sarcastically.

"I am."

Jack didn't reply for a moment, distressed by Bobby's tone. He watched TV for a moment, feeling Bobby's presence even when he refused to look at him, and fidgeting. After a minute he couldn't take it anymore and conceded, deciding he had to at least convince Bobby he was sincere. So he nodded, saying softly, "Okay, Bobby."

Bobby wasn't sure how to reply. He didn't feel like anything was "okay". He didn't know what the marks on Jack's arm meant. He stared at the outline of the lighter in his own pocket. After a moment he pulled it out and tossed it back at Jack, landing it in his lap. Jack was right, he did have more lighters. So confiscating this one like he was a child wasn't going to fix anything.

"Whatever, Jack." Bobby got up off the couch. "I'm going to take some Nyquil and go to bed."

Jack was surprised, fiddling with the lighter for a moment as Bobby started for the doorway. "Bobby," he objected before he was out of the room. "Please don't be mad."

Bobby just shook his head and disappeared.

Jack sat there, feeling coldness in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly felt a mixture of feelings, none of them good. He wasn't sure what to do, and the marks, something he'd nothing really thought about, something he had inflicted almost subconsciously, suddenly bothered him. Bobby might be mad, or he might just be annoyed, but either way, it bothered him.

He sighed, because there was no use now in trying to explain himself, especially because he wasn't even sure how to explain himself.

Jack sighed.

Something to lose sleep over.

After all, he had 243 more hours to go.

* * *

Soooo this should be a few chapters more at least. How long will Jack stay awake? What will the effects be? Stay tuned to find out. Please review if you read. 


	2. Chapter 2

_For those of you wondering, Randy Gardner is actually a real person who did stay up for 264 hours. You can read more about him here: __http/en. as well as in a lot of medical journal articles about sleep deprivation. A lot of the details for this story I'll be taking from Randy's experience. Peter Tripp is a real person as well, and Randy's quest was to beat his record. As far as I know, he currently holds the record. _

_Thanks for the reviews; I wasn't expecting a big response, so I'm more than thrilled. They all meant so much to me and I want to say how encouraging that is to me to keep this story going.

* * *

_

**Chapter 2**

The house seemed weird to Jack over the course of the night and early morning. It was bizarrely quiet, and he found comfort in having the television on, even if he wasn't going to watch it. He needed some kind of sound, because the silence was unnerving. After Bobby left to go back to bed, Jack tried to turn the TV off, but he was only able to stand it for about ten minutes. And six of those minutes were spent making himself a sandwich. The other four were spent eating the sandwich.

The TV was a necessity, he realized. He needed _something _to watch. He didn't like being alone with his thoughts for a long period of time, and he realized that he should have tried to get Bobby to stay up longer. Even arguing with him was a distraction. If he'd just stayed up for a couple more hours…

Morning came slowly, but for the first time in his life he was glad that Evelyn got up at six.

She seemed surprised to see him up, sitting on the couch watching the morning news. Jack knew that she probably hoped he'd gone to bed. She gave me a small smile. "Morning, honey. You've been up?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Day one is complete."

She studied him like any mother would, picking apart his appearance. His eyes looked tired but mostly he looked bored. She was pretty impressed that he was still awake, and attributed it to his stubbornness. "Well, I guess you'll be on time getting ready for school for once."

Jack nodded. In a way it seemed bizarre to be going to school already. But then he thought to himself, already? Going to school yesterday seemed like ages ago. It was just that going to school twice with no sleep in between seemed wrong. "Yeah."

"Was it hard to stay up?"

"No," Jack lied. "I've now been up for exactly twenty four hours." Had it really only been two hours since Bobby had gone back to bed? That seemed like so much longer ago.

She resisted her urge to frown at him. "That's pretty impressive. How do you feel?"

He shrugged. "Not tired."

She smiled. "Not at all? Tonight will probably be harder."

"It'll be fine," he answered confidently.

As much as he insisted, she could tell by his tone that he was already tired from this experiment, but she didn't say anything. She really only hoped that he would give up, sooner rather than later. He was going to get rundown, overtired, and sick if he kept it up. She didn't say anything; she didn't want to encourage him with discouragement.

"Well, good, honey. Why don't you make some breakfast and then take a shower?" she suggested, watching him yawn. "That'll make you feel better."

He caught her look immediately and regretted the yawn he'd let slip out. "You know, you don't yawn because you're tired. You yawn because you need more oxygen."

Evelyn didn't agree, but she didn't tell him that. Instead she smiled and said, "Either way, a shower is probably a good idea."

Jack nodded. He wasn't looking forward to school, because he knew that it would be hard to stay awake. He had a hard time staying alert even on a full night's sleep, especially during a few of his classes in particular. He decided that a lot of the challenge in staying awake was going to be remaining entertained.

* * *

Jack ended up leaving school a half hour after his lunch break, realizing that making it through the afternoon, especially his last class, a history lecture, probably wasn't going to be worth it and would simply be counter-intuitive in his goal to stay awake. The morning had been challenging enough. In a way he was more awake than some of the other kids that had just rolled out of bed and stumbled into class, but at the same time, as they slowly woke up he felt himself getting drowsier. 

So he simply left.

With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he stopped at a convenience store not far from the school. He had to take the bus to get home, so he decided to just waste some time for the next couple hours. He bought a pack of cigarettes, thankful for the hundredth time that the Indian man behind the counter never carded anybody to see if they were eighteen. It was while he was ringing them up that Jack noticed the caffeine pills, next to the gum and magazines.

He picked up one of the bottles and tossed it next to his cigarettes. "This too," he told the man as he dug through his pocket for money, contentedly pulling out fifteen dollars. "I don't need a bag."

Change and cigarettes in his back pocket, Jack walked out of the store, reading the back of the caffeine pills curiously.

"Temporarily reduces physical fatigue and restores mental alertness…" he mumbled to himself. "Eases weakness and drowsiness… Increased wakefulness… Faster and clearer flow of thought and generally better coordination…"

Sounded perfect. Not for now, but maybe for tonight. He skimmed the rest of the bottle, looking for the warnings.

"Please note… can cause restlessness, loss of fine motor control, headaches and dizziness…. Please also note that caffeine does not eliminate the need for sleep, but temporarily minimizes the feeling of tiredness…"

Well, of course it's temporary, Jack thought to himself. He wasn't trying to find a permanent solution. But based on the coffee he'd made for himself that morning, which tasted and looked like mud, he was going to need an easier source of caffeine.

He walked back towards the school, stuffing the pill bottle into his pocket as well and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Cigarettes and caffeine. Evelyn wasn't going to be a fan of any of this, that was for sure.

Walking towards the benches by the lot that the buses would pull up to, Jack decided he'd spend the next couple of hours trying to write the log for the first twenty four hours of the experiment.

* * *

"Bobby told me about your plan…" 

Now home, Jack glanced up at Angel as he sat casually on his bed with his guitar in his lap, long legs stretched out in front of him. Angel sat on the edge of his bed by his feet and watched Jack strum a couple chords lazily.

Jack tried to assess his brother's expression. It was hard. "Yeah," was all he responded, not sure where Angel was going to go with the conversation. Was he going to make fun of him too?

"You sleepy yet?"

"No," Jack answered, running his fingers over the guitar strings.

"Not at all?"

"No," Jack insisted. "I mean, it's only been one day, you know?"

Angel's eyes flickered to the caffeine pills on the nightstand. "And those… Are those cheating, or no?"

"No," Jack answered, immediately annoyed at himself for just setting them right there. Of course that would be a conversation piece. It was a backup plan, just in case. "It's not cheating. I just have to stay awake, it doesn't matter how." He paused. "The other people that did it before, they had drugs and stuff to help them stay awake." He caught the glint in Angel's eye and shook his head. "Legal drugs, Ang."

"Legal drugs," Angel echoed. "And you… Caffeine pills? You're just gonna take caffeine pills for… How long?"

"Twelve days. Well, eleven days and an hour." He drummed his fingers against the guitar and sighed. "You think it's doable? Staying awake?"

Angel chuckled. "Honest? I have no idea. Sounds kinda crazy. Bobby thinks you're just being stupid."

"It's for school."

"Which is the funniest part considering you hate school."

"I don't hate it," Jack objected. "I just hate… I hate a lot of the people in school. But school itself is okay." He shrugged. He glanced towards the window at the trees rustling in the wind. His window was wide open.

"Same difference…" Angel muttered. "So what are you gonna do all night to stay up?"

"Last night I just watched TV." Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Go out? I don't know what to do. There's just a part of the night that's dead quiet, you know? And it seems no one else in the world is up."

"I don't know if I've ever stayed up a whole night," Angel admitted.

"I only did to study once."

Angel shrugged. "Never cared much about any test long enough not to sleep…"

"Last night wasn't too bad."

"I guess we'll see about tonight, huh?" Angel slid off the bed, patting Jack on the leg. "Good luck, bro."

Jack rolled his eyes at the sarcastic tone and watched him leave. He knew one thing about Angel: he was going to remain neutral throughout the whole thing, and that Jack could both rely on and be thankful for. Bobby was against it, and while Evelyn pretended she wouldn't mind Jack experimenting, he could tell by her eyes that she didn't want him to succeed either. At least Angel was impartial.

At least they had different reasons. Jack figured Bobby wanted to see him fail simply to have something else to make fun of him about. Evelyn was against it simply because it was her duty as his guardian to make sure he didn't do stupid things like this.

Jack shook his head to himself. It wasn't stupid. It was science.

He looked at the caffeine pills again. His insurance policy. He reached over and opened the nightstand drawer, pushing the pills in before closing it again.

He spent the next hour simply strumming his guitar, wondering if anything exciting happened in the afternoon of school he'd missed and trying to remember the song he'd started composing just a few days ago. He began to zone out, in his own little world, until Bobby strolled into his room.

"Where are they?"

Jack cleared his throat, a little startled. He frowned at Bobby as the man stood in front of him, eyes searching the room like he was looking for something in particular. "What are you talking about? Where are what?"

"The caffeine pills. I just want to see them."

"Huh?" Jack gave him a skeptical look. Angel. Damn Angel. He could see him, strolling up to Bobby with a cocky look, dying for a reaction to anything.

"Angel told me about your little contingency plan. I'm just curious what these things are."

Jack just looked at him. Was he serious? He was kind of annoyed. It was like Bobby didn't trust him. It was bad enough he was totally against the plan, but now he was treating him like he was a child.

At the same time, he kind of laughed at how serious Bobby looked about it. Jack was not going to give in that easily.

"Jackie. C'mon. Show me."

"Show you what? I don't know whether you're referring to the weed in my pocket, or the cocaine under my mattress, Bobby."

"Fuck you." Bobby hated his facetious tone and gave him an irritated look as he glanced again around the room. "Is it on you? Just tell me." He looked back at Jack, at the playful glint in his eyes, and realized this wouldn't be as easy as he thought. "Jackie…." His tone was warning.

"Why do you want to see it?"

"Because. I'm curious as to what's in them."

"I have a wild idea for you. Caffeine." Jack rolled his eyes.

"Listen, smartass. I just don't like the idea of randomly popping pills. I mean taking pills to make you not sleep just doesn't seem healthy. I just wanna know what's in 'em, got it? No big deal."

"It is a big deal, though, 'cause you don't trust me."

"Man, you realize staying up for 11 days is stupid enough…" Bobby began. "We don't need you adding to the stupidity with some crazy pills." He sighed as Jack began to strum the guitar again. "Listen, Jackie, I _will _strip search you if I need to."

Jack didn't look at him. "It's caffeine and it's _if _I need them. I'm not expecting to have to take them. Not yet, anyway."

"I don't like it."

"You didn't like the plan to begin with." Jack shrugged. "I'm really not surprised."

"Can I just see the pills, Jack? You know I don't like you taking stuff."

"Bobby. I'm not a kid, and I'm not stupid. And it's over the counter stuff. You know, I probably won't even take them. So just… I mean, it's like taking Tylenol." Jack's voice took on a tone of frustration.

"Okay."

Jack watched Bobby just shrug, but knew that he wasn't buying it. And Bobby was still just standing there, a willful look on his face. Jack realized that if he just showed Bobby, he could both get the man to back off and prove that they were extremely harmless pills. So with a sigh, he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the pill bottle.

He threw the bottle at Bobby, who caught it easily with a look of satisfaction and lifted it up to his eye level to read it.

"You read the bottle?" he asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Bobby, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Sometimes."

"Bobby."

"Did you read the side effects too?"

"Yes, but look at the side effects of anything… Anything somebody takes might cause a side effect."

"I guess I'd just rather you drink lots and lots of soda or something. Not pop pills."

"I'm not popping pills. Get over it." Jack just sighed, watching Bobby turn the bottle around and read the label. Then he cleared his throat and put his hand out. "Here, Bobby. Give it back."

Bobby tossed it back, not wanting an argument, but frowned as Jack dropped the bottle back into the drawer. "I trust you, Jackie," he began. "I do. I just don't want this next week to make you sick or crazy."

"Okay, Mom. Point noted."

"I didn't come home this week for a shit show, Jack." Bobby shook his head, beginning to feel irritated. "Hell, I guess I shouldn't even worry. I mean, you won't even make it through the night, so…"

"I will," Jack insisted. "I don't know why you have to be so against the whole thing, Bobby. You'd think I was doing something really wrong."

"You can do what you want. It's just how you do it, Jack."

"I'll be the first to admit that it's not gonna make me feel great. I'll be exhausted. Not sleeping _does _that… I mean, common sense. But I'll live."

"Fine…" Bobby shrugged. "Well, dinner's in like a half hour," he continued, changing the subject purposely as he started to walk towards the door.

"Okay…" Jack muttered, looking down at his guitar as Bobby left. He glanced towards the nightstand where the pills were and just sighed. He just needed to do this and prove to them that he could both do this, and he could take care of himself.

It was just sleep, after all.

* * *

That night was definitely harder. Jack took a shower at around eleven to feel refreshed. It had helped to wake him up in the morning, and so he tried it again, keeping the temperature cold. He knew that when everyone else went to sleep, that would be when he would have the most trouble staying awake. In the meantime it wasn't too bad, watching TV with Ma, listening to music, playing his guitar… But he knew that during the night, it would be very different.

It was around two that he started having trouble. Sitting outside on the front step, he smoked a cigarette and tried to keep from yawning. The cool night air felt good, but after a while, even it got monotonous and ineffective.

As his cigarette got shorter, he started to think that he might not make it to eleven days. Tonight he would make it; he knew that. Even if it was hard, he would make it that far. And he would force himself to somehow make it through at least half the days. But eleven was starting to sound like a lot, especially when it was so boring during these hours of the night.

He leaned back against the step, feeling it against his lower back and yawned. He tossed his cigarette to the path and watched it, a small glow in the dark night on the concrete.

Playing with his lighter for a couple minutes, he thought about what he would write in the log. It was hard to stay awake. Kids battled bedtimes and curfews all the time, but Jack would be the first to admit sleep was really important. It had only been…

Forty-four hours awake so far.

It sounded like a lot, as though he'd accomplished something, but not when he considered how many hours were _left_. Then he just felt somewhat nervous and a little childish.

The more he thought, the more tired he felt. A lot of feeling tired was just frustration and boredom. Part of it was the need for sleep, but thinking when there was nothing specific to focus on was definitely correlated.

He watched the lighter's flame as he flicked it on, mesmerized.

He hadn't taken a pill yet. He thought maybe he should. But he was a little concerned about taking them too soon, and the crash that he would experience when they wore off. He felt like once he started to take them, he'd need to continue taking them, to keep it in his system for the whole time.

Without really thinking about it, Jack hovered his hand over the flame, slowly bring it closer and closer, until he felt the sharp sting of the burn. He held it there for just a second, and then pulled it away, letting go of the button of the lighter so the flame went out.

He felt better. Awake, focused. The stress was somewhere else in his head.

* * *

Bobby was a little surprised to be shaken awake at… Three-thirty in the morning. He groaned and stared at the clock tiredly. He felt groggy and a little annoyed. He hated being woken up during the night, especially when he was actually sleeping well. 

His eyes adjusted and he squinted at Jack, who now sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Jack…" Bobby began, his voice deep and slow, laced with sleep. "It's three-thirty."

"I know." Jack sighed.

"I hope the house is on fire or something, because otherwise I'm gonna be pissed." Bobby rolled onto his side, away from Jack, and closed his eyes. This was ridiculous. "I don't smell smoke."

"Bobby," Jack began. "I—"

"Listen, you're getting too old for nightmares, and you're not sleeping with me, so go away," Bobby muttered. "It's too late for this."

"I don't want to sleep here," Jack objected. "Bobby, listen."

"Mm…" Bobby murmured.

"I'm sorry to wake you up," Jack began. "And I know that you think my experiment is really stupid, but… It's just that between the hours of, like… Well, I'm not going to kid myself. From like one to six in the morning, Bobby, it's tough to stay up."

Bobby wanted to slug him. But he didn't, mostly because it was Jack and he couldn't. But also because he was just too tired. But Jack made no sense whatsoever. He was complaining about not being able to stay awake because he was so tired. "Go to bed then, Jack."

"No. I can't." Jack's voice was insistent. "I'm not even _that_ tired. I mean, it's only been forty-six hours or something, and I have a long way to go. It's not the tiredness, it's the boredom, Bobby."

Bobby didn't know what to say to him. So he didn't say anything.

Jack put his hand on Bobby's arm. "Bobby, I figured we could talk or something. Last night when we talked, it was better because—"

"Go to bed, Jack," Bobby replied.

"I can't," Jack persisted. "I'm going to do this, Bobby."

Bobby rolled onto his back again and opened his eyes. Jack had a pathetic look on his face. "Jack. This is ridiculous."

"So you don't want to talk…"

"Jack." Bobby cleared his throat. "I think your plan to stay up is stupid and immature. Why… Why on earth would you think that I'd be the one to choose to wake up?"

"Because…" Jack began. "It made sense."

"Made sense... I don't think you have any sense in your head. Get out of my room."

Jack watched him close his eyes and sighed. "I'll talk about anything, Bobby."

The man kept his eyes closed but took a deep breath and began to speak again. "Listen to me, Jack. Listen good. You're doing this eleven days. Or you want to. You think I wanna be woken up at this hour for eleven days? Go talk to yourself…"

"No, Bobby. I want to talk to you."

In a way Bobby felt guilty, because Jack was so difficult to get to open up. In fact, damn near impossible. Bobby often thought to himself what he wouldn't do to get inside Jack's head and try to figure him out. And here the kid was, offering to talk, offering to be open. And Bobby was turning him down.

But it was three-thirty…

And he had to consider that it could be a tactic of Jack's too, pretending he wanted to talk to get Bobby up. There was no guarantee he would actually open up.

"Jack, it's too late for this. I'm not going to entertain you. If you can't stay awake, then you can't. I didn't expect you could."

"I can. I just want to talk. We can talk about anything you want to. Ask me anything."

"Why won't you listen to me?" Bobby grumbled. He pushed himself up slightly, eyes open now, and gave Jack an insistent look. "If you don't get out of my room, I'm going to carry you out. Don't think I won't."

"Bobby… I'm just trying—"

"Man, I'm not trying to be mean. It's just way too late for this right now. I'm counting to three. One…"

Jack faltered a bit. "Fine." He got up off the edge of the bed.

"Talk to me tomorrow, kid," Bobby mumbled as he pulled the comforter up to his chin and closed his eyes again.

Jack left the dark room slowly, thankful for the ten minutes of distraction but frustrated and disappointed that Bobby refused to talk to him. It was late, but he'd never had a problem getting Bobby to talk to him at any time. But then again, the only times he'd done anything like this was when he was younger and had nightmares. Jack supposed that was why Bobby hadn't complained as much those times.

Seeing Bobby so comfortable in bed hadn't been conducive to his plan. Jack headed back to watch some more TV, starting to think to himself that he might have to try out a couple pills tonight after all.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**265 Hours**

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

"Thanks for waking me up at such a fantastic hour," Bobby began, sitting down at the table and watching Jack shovel eggs into his mouth. "Ma made those?"

"No. I did," Jack mumbled.

"How is it…" Bobby began as he looked up at the clock on the wall, "that you've been up for hours, but you're still gonna be late for school?" He paused. "At least you fed yourself."

"Not gonna be late… I got like…" Jack looked up at the clock himself. "Like ten minutes." He put down his fork and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Ten minutes is fine." He yawned.

Bobby rubbed at his stubble covered jaw. "You did stay up then?"

"Yeah."

"How long's it been so far?" Bobby studied Jack, his messy hair and sulking face. He looked to be in a terrible mood. Bobby refrained from calling him an idiot.

"Started at six…" Jack began with a sigh, like he had no interest in sharing how long it had been with anybody. "So it's only been like forty-eight hours. I don't know."

"Only forty-eight," Bobby scoffed. "That's a lot of hours, Jack…"

"Yeah, I guess. Just a lot left too."

Bobby sighed, watching Jack's solemn face. He looked at the plate of eggs in front of his younger brother. "Eat up. If you're late, I'll drive you to school if you want."

"I don't care… Why are you up anyway?"

"I wanted to see if you were," Bobby admitted with a smirk.

Jack gave him a petulant look. "Why… Why do you just want to see me fail?"

"I don't just want to see you fail. Nah, first I wanna see how crazy you get, and _then_ how you fail." Bobby paused. "You look terrible, by the way."

Jack shrugged. "You don't look too hot yourself, you know. You need to shave."

"Well, I'm much more of a morning person than you are regardless…" Bobby noticed Jack's cup of coffee. It was half empty. "Liking coffee now, huh?"

"Tastes like shit."

Bobby laughed. "It's really not hard to make coffee."

"I just don't care for it." Jack ran his hands through his hair with a sigh.

Bobby glanced at the clock again. "Seriously, man, I'll drive you to school. You shower yet?"

Jack shook his head. "No," he admitted.

Bobby looked at his t-shirt and jeans. "Kid… You wore that yesterday."

Jack made a face. "I know."

"Well, go change."

"I will. I've been meaning too."

"Why not then? You've had hours."

Jack hated Bobby's patronizing look and the way he kept teasing him. It was starting to wear thin on his nerves. "I don't know. I just wasn't paying attention to the time, I guess."

"I thought all you were doing was paying attention to the time."

"You can't just _watch _the fucking clock, Bobby."

"I guess you're right. A watched clock never boils."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Jack shook his head, picking up his fork again and poking at the eggs. "I ate breakfast two hours ago also."

Bobby laughed. "Really?"

"I got bored. And hungry."

"Should've showered. Then should've made me breakfast."

"Didn't know you were getting up early to make fun of me," Jack muttered. He stuffed a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "I don't want to go to school. It's so _tiring_."

"You know what's tiring?" Bobby leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not sleeping. I bet—"

"No. School was tiring before I wasn't sleeping."

"I just don't get it. Not sleeping's a disorder. Don't you have enough disorders?"

Jack looked up at him, immediately insulted and annoyed. He flung a forkful of eggs at the man and pushed back his chair. "Fuck off. I'm going to shower."

"Okay." Bobby brushed the eggs off his arm. "Make it quick and I'll take you to school."

"Whatever." Jack brought his plate over to the sink and dumped it in next to the dirty frying pan. He felt bad just leaving the dishes there, but was too tired to worry about it for long. He'd do it later. Or someone would get sick of it during the day and do it.

"And maybe stay in school this time." Bobby leaned his chair back, balancing on its back legs and remembering in the back of his mind how much Evelyn hated when he did that.

"Huh?" Jack answered with a frown. "Whattaya mean stay in school? I go every day."

"You think suddenly they don't call here anymore when you skip class?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, please…" he muttered sarcastically.

"I didn't tell Ma. I know you're wondering…" Bobby had a mischievous look in his eye.

"She won't care," Jack replied, indifferent.

"But I bet you'd rather I don't mention it anyway."

Jack gave him a hard look. "Do what you want. God forbid I don't go to a class I'm going to sleep through anyway. I'm going to shower." He walked towards the door.

"Thought you're not supposed to sleep through anything," Bobby objected, watching him leave with a sigh. Jack was moody enough as it was. This not sleeping was just making him grouchier. Jack wasn't quite a morning person to begin with, but Bobby figured that shouldn't matter when you weren't really getting up in the morning in the first place…

Bobby got himself a bowl of cereal and ate it while watching the clock. He let fifteen minutes pass, finishing a glass of juice, and decided to give Jack a couple more minutes before dragging him out of the shower. Fortunately, within that time Jack came down the stairs with wet hair and a slightly more refreshed look, in clean clothes and meeting his brother in the kitchen.

"Ready?" Bobby asked.

Jack shrugged, backpack over his shoulder. "Yeah, fine. Let's go."

Bobby watched him yawn as he slid his chair back. He grabbed his car keys off the counter and walked out of the kitchen with Jack following. "You're gonna be miserable today, kid. Dunno why you're doing this."

"Already told you," Jack answered as they went out the front door. "Science."

"Science is a bunch of bullshit," Bobby answered, walking down the front steps. "You're trying to spite somebody, and I just don't know who."

"No, I'm not."

"No?" Bobby squinted up at the cloudy sky. "It might rain. You wanna grab an umbrella so you don't get your pretty hair wet?"

"Fuck off, Bobby," Jack muttered as they reached the car. He climbed into the beat-up vehicle tiredly, only slightly thankful that Bobby had offered to drive him to school. To be honest, if he hadn't, he probably would have just pretended to catch the bus and then gone somewhere else. "Just shut up."

Bobby started up the car. "Just looking out for you, sweetheart." He slapped Jack's hands away from the radio. "No, keep it off. Let's talk."

"Not after the crap you've given me," Jack answered, pushing Bobby's hand back over to the steering wheel. He switched on the radio and AC/DC filled the car.

Bobby let him, putting the car into drive and starting down the street. "Fine. Just tell me… What'd you want to talk about last night?"

"Moment's over," Jack answered, leaning his head against the car window. "I'm over it."

"There was a moment? What moment? It was three-thirty in the morning."

"It's gone," Jack repeated. He rubbed at his eyes again, wishing he could rub away the tiredness. As long as he was doing something, even looking out the window as Bobby drove, it was a little bit better. Nothing compared to the early hours of the morning when no one else was up and all he could think about was his empty bed. But still, he had to admit he felt tired.

"I'm tired, Bobby," he said when Bobby hadn't answered and a moment of silence passed between them. It sounded a lot like complaining, and he mentally kicked himself. He knew Bobby would just make fun of him, just state the obvious, and he'd set himself up for it. Why should he complain when he was in complete control of the situation?

"No shit. Go to sleep then." Bobby paused. "Just not now. After school."

Jack shook his head. He knew Bobby would answer like that. "I just really want to see what happens." He yawned again, eyes watering with tiredness.

"Imagine how long you'll sleep when you finish," Bobby began. "Not that you'll finish the whole thing. But whenever you quit, you'll sleep well."

Jack shrugged.

"I just don't see how it's bad… I mean, fifty hours… Or what is it you'll have when you get home? Like sixty? That's not bad, Jack."

Jack shook his head. "265's the goal though, Bobby. It's not even close."

"I know you say somebody else did it, but…" Bobby stopped at a red light and glanced over at Jack, slouched down in his passenger seat. "You take any of the pills last night, Jackie?"

"Maybe," Jack answered.

"Maybe's a yes then?"

"Yeah," Jack admitted. No point in lying. Bobby usually knew when he lied. "I didn't think I would last night, but I just… I caved. Around four became kinda hard."

"Did it help?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, it did. For a while anyway. But after a couple hours I kinda still felt tired. I don't want… Well, I figure you crash or whatever, and I don't want to take 'em all day."

"Well, you didn't bring them with you, did you?"

"Uh… No," Jack lied. They were in fact in his backpack.

"Because I doubt they like those kinds of things in school."

Jack smirked. "Yeah, caffeine pills are the least of my school's worries, Bobby. Don't be stupid."

"I'm not stupid," Bobby answered. "I just don't want you getting yourself in trouble over something that is."

"If I get busted for pills," Jack began, "it's gonna be for something better than caffeine, trust me, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head. "You know, Jack…"

"Just saying. It's like getting arrested for stealing something like… Candy. What a waste."

"No one gets arrested for stealing candy, Jack. "Not unless you steal like a truck full or something."

"Well, you know what I'm saying…"

"No, but you know what _I'm _saying," Bobby persisted. "Just watch out for yourself. Don't go overboard trying to prove something and get yourself in trouble."

"I'm not proving something. I'm just…" Jack trailed off. He got distracted by a woman he saw riding a bike. She was wearing a bright orange shirt and red pants, and it definitely didn't match. Green sneakers. She looked like a stop light.

"You're just what?" Bobby asked.

"Huh?"

"You were saying, you're just something. You're not proving something, you're…" Bobby repeated, waiting for Jack to fill in the rest.

"Yeah, I'm not proving anything," Jack answered. "I'm just trying to stay awake."

Bobby shook his head. "I swear to God. When I was fifteen, I was so much smarter than you. Ma can disagree all she want… But I never did anything this stupid."

Jack just rolled his eyes, continuing to stare out the window. He thought about the same class at the end of the day and debated whether he should stay for it. He really didn't want to. Bobby would find out if he was home and they called again, but he wouldn't really get mad for it.

It felt like just a second had passed when Bobby suddenly punched him in the arm, saying, "Jack. Get out."

Jack blinked and realized they were at school already, and Bobby was pulled up to the curb. He was confused for a second, but didn't want to say anything to Bobby, so he just picked up his backpack from the floor by his feet and pushed the door open. "Bye, Bobby."

"Bye," Bobby answered, giving him a critical look. He watched Jack walk slowly towards the school and just took a deep breath, mumbling, "Idiot," as he started to drive away.

* * *

Jack left school at eleven AM. He tried to hang on a little longer, but just couldn't. He didn't like his classes as it was. Classes on no sleep were painful. He would try to concentrate, and then slowly his eyes would close and his head would start to nod to the side… Then he'd he realize what he was doing and would snap himself back to awareness, startled that he'd almost fallen asleep.

It became a cycle.

Between classes, walking down the halls, he was tricked into thinking he felt okay. Because that was doing something, that was moving. But once he sat down in a desk, as uncomfortable and hard and plastic as it was, fatigue hit him like a dead weight on his shoulders.

He grabbed a can of Coke from a vending machine before leaving the school, wondering how much caffeine was in it compared to the caffeine pills. He knew that the pills each had about 200mg of caffeine, and figured it would take at least a few cans of soda to match that.

As he took a sip of the soda he figured the sugar would a little too.

He wasn't going to wait around for the bus this time. Instead he just walked out of the high school and started down the street.

While he worried about the consequences of leaving school, it was only for a few minutes. Then he felt the outside air, and kept up a brisk walk, and he felt a million times better than he had in a stuffy classroom under stark florescent lights.

* * *

The phone rang and Bobby answered it mid-ring, his mouth half full of popcorn. "Hello," he said through the food, glancing inside where Camille and Jerry were with their year old baby, visiting for the afternoon.

"Bobby."

"Yo… Jack…" Bobby twisted the phone cord around his hand with a frown. "Yeah, what's up, man?"

"Can you pick me up?"

Bobby's eyes found the clock on the wall. "But… It's one."

"I know."

"So…" Bobby rolled his eyes to himself, pissed that he wasn't in the other room as he heard Camille and Jerry make cheering sounds. The baby was just learning to walk and watching her try was hilarious.

"So, can you pick me up?"

"Kid, stick out your last class and take the bus. Don't ask me this. I'm hanging up, so—"

"No, don't," Jack insisted, voicing rising. "I'm not at school."

"And why…?"

"Why?" Jack echoed. "Why ask why, Bobby? Look, I'm at that—"

"Jack. I told you to stay. Go back to school. I'm hanging—"

"Stop saying you're hanging up. You won't hang up on me, Bobby."

Bobby smirked. "That a challenge?" He untwisted the phone card from his hand and hung up the phone. Then he leaned against the wall and waited. Within a minute, the phone rang again.

"Yes?" he answered it with a sigh.

"Don't ever hang up on me, Bobby," Jack said angrily on the other line. "I—"

"Jack," Bobby interrupted. "You challenged me. I love challenges. Want to try again?"

"I'm out of quarters, Bobby."

"Well, then. You better be careful this time, huh?"

"Can you quit being such a dick and just come get me?" Jack whined. "Please. It might rain soon."

"I thought you liked dick though."

"Bobby." Jack's voice was irritated now.

"Oh no… now _you'll_ hang up on _me_…" Bobby answered, mocking Jack's tone. "What will I do?" He paused. "Go back to school and take the fucking bus, you hear?"

"Can't. I walked like an hour already, Bobby."

"Well, quit whining and start walking back."

"Are you kidding?" Jack persisted.

"No. I'm busy."

"Busy doing what? Sitting on your ass?"

"Hey, watch it or else I'm definitely not coming to pick you up." Bobby cleared his throat. "Look, Jerry's here with Camille and Daniela. I'm busy."

"Twenty minutes out of your useless day. Please…"

"Just walk home from there then," Bobby answered, glancing at the clock again. "Man, you had like an hour left, why would you—"

"I'm tired of walking…" Jack protested.

"Quit bitching about it. Not my fault you cut." Bobby leaned against the wall. "Can you hang up now? Be home by dinner."

"Bobby, please…" Jack implored. "I'm tired of walking."

"So you said. The problem is… you'll skip tomorrow too." Bobby sighed. "And the next day. And I don't wanna keep picking you up."

"Just today. Tomorrow I won't walk as far."

"Jack, the point is you _stay in school_…" Bobby shook his head.

"My quarter's gonna run out…" Jack began.

"Fine. Go back to school."

Jack took a deep breath. "Fine," he said stiffly. "I'm not coming home then. So if Ma asks," Jack persisted, "tell her I needed a ride and you wouldn't come get me."

"I'm not home to be your chauffeur, in case you forgot."

"Just let her know."

Bobby was quiet for a second. He thought about it, rationalized it, and realized how terrible it sounded. And it _would_ sound like his fault. How was it possible that Jack could be so ridiculous and it would still seem like Bobby just left him helpless somewhere?

He cursed under his breath. "Fine. Where are you, you little fucker?

Jack told him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," Bobby said edgily. "But don't you use that excuse again. You know, one day you being the baby's not gonna work anymore. Just remember that."

"Just fucking come get me."

* * *

Jack was watching some people play baseball in the park, leaning on the fence lazily, when he heard the car honk. He turned and saw Bobby glaring at him from the driver's seat. Ignoring that, he picked up his backpack from the ground and swung it over his shoulder.

He climbed into the passenger seat with a tired sigh.

"You're welcome, you prick," Bobby said.

"You didn't even give me a chance to say thanks," Jack replied.

"So say it."

Jack shook his head. "Not now. Fuck off."

Bobby lifted his hand like he was going to hit him, but just faked a punch before putting his hands back on the steering wheel. He didn't miss the flinch from Jack and regretted the teasing.

Then he just shook his head. "I'm pissed at you. Twice today I chauffeur your sorry ass."

"So…?" Jack muttered as he watched Bobby put the car in drive.

"You owe me."

"No."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm a few up on you now, Jack. Pretty damn sure." He glanced over to catch Jack's scowl. "You owe me."

Jack grunted and leaned his head back against the headrest.

"You can't just skip school," Bobby muttered. "Why'd you walk up this way anyway?"

Jack was pleased for a moment. He'd predicted correctly that Bobby would pretty quickly get over the skipping school part. He hadn't been much of a student himself. Bobby would undoubtedly bring it up a few times, do his lecturing, but Jack wasn't too concerned.

"I don't know; never walked this way before," Jack answered. "Curious."

"Well, don't come up here again. Nothing here."

Jack nodded and leaned forward to turn on the radio. "How's Jerry?"

"Good. Daniela's walking now."

"Really?" Jack brightened a little. "They'll still be there when I get back?"

"Yeah, staying for dinner."

"Cool." Jack noticed Bobby was visibly speeding. He knew he was slightly annoyed about having to come out to get him, but Jack had walked too far to not call him. Although it kept him awake, he realized how much more tired it had gotten him to walk that far.

"You fall asleep in school at all?"

"No."

"You sure?" Bobby raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. "Because that would negate you back, right?"

"No."

"No? So you can just fall asleep for a few minutes and it doesn't matter?"

Jack glared at him. "But I _didn't _fall asleep for any minutes, so in that case, yes, it doesn't matter."

"Remind me how this is science again?"

"Just drop it, Bobby. I'm sick of you making fun of it."

"Hey, you asked for me to pick you up, so you can blame yourself for the conversation on the way home. Tell me how it's science?" Bobby drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change.

Jack had lost interest in trying to explain himself. "Drop it."

"Man, if you can't even defend it… What if your teacher asks how it's science?"

Jack felt completely exasperated. He didn't know how to answer. Of course it was science. He just didn't feel like putting into words right now. "It just… is. It is because it is…" His voice was troubled.

"Look at you." Bobby looked at him again in frustration. "You're getting all worked up over this stupid stuff, man. You're so overtired."

"Stop it, Bobby."

"I'm not _doing_ anything…" Bobby just shook his head. "I'm not doing anything at all."

"Then be quiet…"

Bobby raised his eyebrows. He drove silently for a minute and then persisted, "I just want to talk, Jack, and you can't even talk. You just block me out."

"I'm not," Jack objected. "I'm not at all, you're just…" He let out a deep breath. "You don't have to make fun of what I'm doing. Even if you think it's stupid, you don't have to make fun of me for everything."

"That's my job," Bobby joked. "If you weren't in such a bad mood, you'd remember that."

"So your job's to make me feel like shit?" Jack replied. "Because that's all you're doing."

"Oh, please…" Bobby rolled his eyes. He gripped the steering wheel in his hands. He realized he wasn't going to be able to have this conversation with him now, or any conversation. Maybe Jack wanted it at three-thirty in the morning, but Bobby wanted it now.

Bobby gave up. "You know what? Then yeah, I'll just keep my fucking mouth shut. Fine…"

Jack watched Bobby's hands on the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles showing from squeezing so hard. Jack didn't even know how they were suddenly at this point. He hadn't gotten in the car with any intention for them to be annoyed at each other. And yet, they were.

"Sorry, Bobby…" he mumbled.

Bobby just shrugged. "Yeah…"

* * *

The baby energized Jack when they got home. He walked into the family room in time to see Daniela fall flat on her face from trying to walk. Jack walked over to her with a laugh and pulled her up.

"Hey, Jack," Camille greeted with a smile, sitting on the floor a few feet away. "She's been pretty good, but I don't think she's used to this carpet."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, crouching down and letting Daniela use his arm as a balance. She grinned at him with big brown eyes, drool dripping down her chin.

"Your school called," Jerry informed him from the couch. "In case you were wondering."

Jack shrugged as Daniela giggled and put her hand on his knee. "Yeah, figured they would."

"I told Bobby not to pick you up," Jerry said, with a smirk on his face. "Teach you a lesson."

"He wouldn't leave me there," Jack answered, settling on the floor cross-legged. He pulled the one year old into his lap.

"Like hell," Bobby retorted. "Next time."

Camille watched her daughter for a moment and then looked up at Jack. "So Jerry's telling me you're doing this sleep thing, Jack?"

Jack looked up at Jerry, who he hadn't discussed the whole experiment with. Jack knew that if Jerry heard about it from anyone else in the house, he couldn't possibly think highly of the idea. "You think it's stupid too?"

"Not the smartest thing I've heard," Jerry admitted. "You do know not sleeping can kill someone?"

"Like I'll make it that long…"

"Well, it makes you sick either way."

"I'm fine, so far," Jack answered.

"Yeah, you just look like shit," Bobby answered as he sat beside Jerry on the couch.

Jerry slapped Bobby in the shoulder. "Bobby, c'mon, man… I've told you a million times not to cuss in front of my baby girl."

"Oh, she's not listening to me…" Bobby responded with frustration, watching Jack handle the baby on the floor. "Speaking of listening, can you tell your little brother that he should go to bed tonight?"

"I'm on about fifty-six hours, Jerry," Jack spoke up. He gave the man a smile. "That's not bad, huh?"

Jerry made a face. "I don't know. That does seem… Stupid. How many hours total?"

"The record's 264."

"And that person didn't _die_?"

Jack shook his head. "Nope. I just want to see how far I can get."

"What happened to beating the record?" Bobby asked.

Jack tickled Daniela, watching her giggle and smirked. Then he said, "Well, obviously I'll try… I mean… Why not?"

Bobby just eyed him carefully and then leaned over and said to Jerry. "He's been in a terrible mood because of it. You'll see."

"He looks exhausted," Jerry said softly back.

Jack watched him and frowned. "What'd you say?"

"Just talking about how pretty you are." Bobby sent him a crooked smile. "No worries."

Jack continued to frown, holding Daniela on his lap. He didn't like people talking about him behind his back, especially while looking at him. And obviously they were whispering only because they were doing just that.

"Here, Daniela," Camille began with a big smile. "Come to mama." She held out her arms.

Jack helped Daniela balance herself to stand and then let her go, watching her waddle confidently towards her mother. Then he got to his own feet, giving his brothers a glance. "I'll be outside."

"Haven't you quit smoking yet?" Jerry gave him a look.

"Jer…" he protested. "I didn't say that's what I was doing…"

Jerry's look was incredulous. "What else do you go outside for?"

Jack just shook his head. He wanted to know if there was one thing he was doing that they wouldn't make fun of. "Whatever."

They watched him walk out of the room. Jerry gave Bobby a look, and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"He's stubborn," Bobby explained.

"He'll fall asleep though," Jerry began. "He has to, right? It's against human nature."

Bobby shrugged again. "So's caffeine." He gave Jerry an appeasing look. "I'll talk to him again. Don't worry about it."

"Ma's letting him?"

"Ma knows how his head works. You can't trap him. He'll do it anyway."

Jerry just shook his head. "Idiot."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

I'm really sorry that this update took me so long. I've been dying to write and get more up, but work has been extremely busy and I've been just swamped. Thank you sincerely to everyone reading, and especially those who leave such great reviews. They really make my day and are a huge encouragement. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

-----------------------------------

**Chapter 4**

Sitting on the front step, Jack had just lit his cigarette when he heard the door open behind him. He glanced up to see Bobby walk out and simply rolled his eyes. He knew Bobby was going to simply criticize the whole plan again, or make him come inside and 'be social', and he mentally prepared himself.

"Go ahead," he prompted the man as Bobby sat down on the step beside him, leaving about a foot space between them.

"Go ahead with what?" Bobby answered, squinting up at the sky to see a plane that was just going overhead.

Jack raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled, then blowing the smoke out at Bobby, which was a mistake because as soon as he blinked, Bobby had knocked the cigarette out of his hand, moving to crush it out with his sneaker.

"Stop," Bobby said plainly.

Jack frowned. "I only have two left."

"Well, then I guess no chain smoking tonight, huh?" Bobby replied.

"No, now I have somewhere to go," Jack answered. He hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"So at four o'clock in the morning you can go out and buy cigarettes? That seems like a great idea."

"Whatever…" Jack muttered.

"Listen," Bobby began. "Why don't you just go upstairs and take a nap, Jack. No one likes the mood you're in."

"I'm not in a mood."

"You can see it all over your face, man. You're exhausted," Bobby answered. "Hell, I'm exhausted just looking at you. Just thinking about it."

"I'm fine."

"Fine is subjective I guess… It's just… It won't even be an 'I told you so' kinda thing. If you quit."

"I'm just like a quarter through. I'm not quitting."

"So you'll just go through the week torturing yourself? Fighting instinct at night and then just dragging yourself through a couple hours of school before just skipping out because you can't concentrate? Is that what you're gonna do for the next week?"

Jack sighed, staring at his crushed cigarette on the pavement. He regretted blowing the smoke at Bobby, and he itched for another cigarette. But he knew he'd rather one later. "It's really not a big deal. I didn't miss anything anyway. It's a slow week."

"You can't do it. You can't just decide when to go to class on a whim."

Jack just stared at the pavement.

"I want to have a real conversation here, Jack," Bobby persisted. "You listening?" He gave Jack a moment to reply but got no response. Jack was stationary, staring down at the ground like there was something far more interesting there. Bobby watched him for a minute and then sighed.

"Jack. Don't ignore me." He was used to this. Annoyed by it, but accustomed to Jack zoning people out, disappearing into his own little reverie. He was better now than he had been as a child, when it used to be exhausting to try to get through to him. But he still had a habit of it.

"Jack," Bobby persisted irritably.

"I'm not," Jack finally answered.

"Good. Then respond when I'm talking to you."

"I don't know what you want me to say. This is about the whole school thing? I mean, I know you weren't a good student. So you don't really have the right—"

"The right?" Bobby echoed. "Look, I'll be the first to admit I was a shitty student. Did I ever skip? Yeah. I mean, I'm not gonna start lying to you. It's easy to skip."

"So quit being a hypocrite about it." Jack frowned.

"I'm just trying to teach you what I learned. You know what I learned?"

Jack sighed. He hated these rhetorical arguments. "What."

"Sure it didn't hurt me. Grades weren't great, but who cares? And same thing, it won't hurt you now. You know who it hurts?" Bobby persisted. "Hurts Ma. I mean, she put her neck on the line when she took each of us in, you know that. And it just looks bad on her when you act like you do."

"I don't act like anything."

"Well, then try acting a little more like you care," Bobby answered. "You know who the schools and everyone else blames when a kid does something stupid? They blame the parents. They say, where were the parents."

Jack shrugged. "Parents," he echoed a little sarcastically.

Bobby gave him a look, but ignored it. "Look, man. I've covered for you, and Angel's covered for you," Bobby persisted. "But she knows. She's not stupid. And she's not gonna yell at you for it. Because she knows that you know better. So you know what? If she's not gonna tell you, I will. Get your fucking act together."

"I missed like three classes, Bobby," Jack muttered, keeping his head bowed. "Not really newsworthy."

"That's just today and yesterday. Not like those are the first times you decide to just take a field trip."

Jack didn't respond.

"Just don't make Ma look bad," Bobby said. "That's all I'm saying. Not after what she's done."

"They'll blame me, not her."

"You'd be surprised."

Jack was tired of serious Bobby, so he didn't respond right away. He knew Bobby had a point, so it was difficult to argue with. Whenever Bobby brought Evelyn into an argument, Jack couldn't really respond. There wasn't really anything he could say against her, and Bobby had a way of guilting him that was difficult to get around.

But he still hated serious Bobby. So finally he replied. "So what we do makes her look bad," he began. "So why do you continue to be such a fuck up?"

Bobby rubbed at his jaw. "In what sense am I a fuck up?"

"I mean, for instance why do you feel the need to turn hockey into a blood sport or start a brawl when someone looks at you a way you don't like," Jack persisted contemptuously, "if it makes her look bad?"

"Jack." Bobby rolled his eyes. "Don't turn the tables on—"

"So you can criticize me, and—" Jack glanced at Bobby and saw the man's look. He cut himself off, regretting the uncharacteristic boldness he'd felt in his tiredness, and stared at the sidewalk again.

"Go ahead, say it," Bobby said. He watched Jack, sitting there stiffly, and continued. "If you've got something to say to me, say it."

Jack was quiet.

"My temper is my problem," Bobby said crossly. "So I like fighting. Never denied it. You'd think getting thrown out of games would convince me to fix my act. But defending the puck a little aggressively is not the same as cutting class. So you wanna compare apples to oranges, go ahead."

Jack just let out a sigh, thinking about the two cigarettes he had left in the pack. He pulled the pack out of his pocket, but before he could push open the top, Bobby snatched it from him.

"Don't," he said. "You smoke when you're nervous." He set the pack down between them on the step, and looked up at Jack's frown. "I think you should go take a nap."

"No."

"You're going to makes yourself sick."

Jack shook his head.

"God, you're stubborn," Bobby muttered under his breath. "Why won't you just admit you're exhausted? We're only arguing because you're overtired."

"We're not arguing."

"No?" Bobby responded. "Well, maybe not technically, since you barely respond to anything."

Jack made a face.

Bobby took a deep breath. "Jackie. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I don't tell you what to do. I'm just telling you what I think."

"It's just important."

"I don't understand why though. I mean, yes, you want to finish because you started it, but… I mean, c'mon, just admit you're tired."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I'm tired. I mean, do you expect me to deny it? That would be stupid after how long I haven't slept. But I'm not quitting, Bobby."

"So let's just summarize. You're exhausted. You're in a bad mood. You can't make it through a day of school…"

"Bobby, I came out here to be alone and get air. If you came out here just to—"

"I came out here to talk to you. You're just not really adding to the conversation."

"Because you're lecturing me."

"I don't lecture."

"Yes, you do…" Jack rolled his eyes. "You say you want to have a conversation, but this is completely one-sided."

"It's not."

"Well…" Jack shrugged. He felt like Bobby was patronizing him, but unfortunately he was right for the most part. Still, it wasn't going to change Jack's mind. And as ridiculous as not sleeping for days was, he was going to be stubborn. At least until he couldn't take it anymore. For now he could take it. "Fine."

"Fine?" Bobby echoed with a smirk. "Giving up on me?"

Jack set his jaw. Part of him felt like Bobby was just looking for a reaction. Jack wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"You can't go from napping nearly every day to not sleeping at all and not have problems… I mean, even Angel thinks it's crazy. And when _Angel _thinks something's a bad idea, then you know…"

"Just stop, Bobby," Jack said softly.

"Well, then talk about something else…" Bobby persisted. "Possible topics. Hm, not school, because you hadn't been there, although ironically you're doing this in theory for school…"

"How about not even bringing it up subtly?" Jack persisted.

"Fine."

They sat there for a couple minutes in silence, watching cars drive by. Bobby thought of other things that he wanted to say to Jack, and to ask them, but all that was at the tip of his tongue was the urge to convince Jack to just snap out of it and go to bed. Jack was irritable and obviously exhausted.

Bobby studied him for several seconds and then said softly. "Jackie, can you show me your wrists again?"

Jack watched a fly that was buzzing around a few feet from them. "Why?"

"Just because I asked."

Jack looked down at his arms, at his long sleeved shirt and just shrugged. "No reason."

Bobby reached over and took his arm. Immediately Jack jumped up, backing away from the front steps. "Don't _touch_ me," he said in an unsteady voice.

Bobby just sat there, eyeing him carefully. Jack suddenly looked like a scared cornered animal, a wild glint just barely visible in his eyes. He hadn't expected this reaction, but he wasn't surprised.

"Okay," Bobby said gently. "Forget it then. C'mere and sit back down."

Jack just stood there.

"Jackie," Bobby persisted with a sigh. "I won't touch you. Come back and sit." He patted the step. He saw Jack's hesitation. "You just gonna stand there looking at me like that? Sit."

Reluctantly, Jack walked back over and sat down.

"Sorry," Bobby said. He didn't really mean it, simply because he couldn't understand why Jack sometimes suddenly reacted to him like that, but he wasn't going to press it.

They sat in silence again.

Before he could say anything else, Evelyn got home. They both watched her get out of the car and walk up the front steps.

"Hi, boys," she began. She took a deep breath. "Today was exhausting. How are you two doing?"

"Good," Bobby answered. "Just talking."

"About what?" she asked.

"Actually nothing," Bobby answered. He glanced beside him at silent Jack. "Jerry's inside. With Camille and the baby."

She smiled. "Oh good. He said he might come over for dinner." She looked at Jack, with his hunched posture staring at the sidewalk. "Jackie, honey, you're quiet. How are you?"

"Okay," he answered. He tore his eyes away from the pavement to look up at her. He felt like her eyes went right through him, and could see right into his head.

She paused. "And how was school?"

He sat up a little. "Uh. It was fine."

"And I can tell from the bags under your eyes that you're still going strong with this project?"

He nodded. "I'm not quitting.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's pretty impressive then, that you've made it this far?"

He rubbed at his hair. "I guess. I mean, I'm only a quarter of the way through…"

"Still, no matter when you stop," she said, "you're still a lot further than most people would make it, I think."

"I think he needs a nap," Bobby replied.

She gave him a look. "Bobby, he's doing it, so you might as well just let him do it."

He rolled his eyes. "I am. I don't have to be supportive, but I'm letting him do it."

She just shook her head. "Why don't you boys come inside and we can all see Jerry and Camille?"

"What's for dinner?" Bobby asked as he got up.

She laughed. "Well, what are you making?"

"Me?" he answered.

She nodded. "Didn't you say you'd cook while you're home this week?"

He scratched his head. "Did I?"

"Yeah. You did."

"Fuck. What was I thinking?"

She laughed at his expression. "Don't disappoint me, Bobby… I've been looking forward to not cooking…"

He made a face.

"Jack will help you, right Jack?" she continued. "Jack's becoming a great cook."

"That's cute," Bobby muttered. "He'll make a great housewife some day…"

-----------------------------------------

An hour later, Jack leaned against the kitchen counter and yawned, watching Bobby with a little amusement as the man stood in front of the open refrigerator, holding a package of chicken and staring at it.

"Why don't they have instructions on it?" Bobby asked.

Jack frowned. "You kind of just cook it until it's not pink anymore. Till it's white."

"I always found that disturbing. That raw chicken is pink."

Jack didn't respond.

"Seriously though. They should write on the package what time it takes to cook it. So you have an idea."

"Why don't you just make spaghetti or something?" Jack answered. "Or macaroni and cheese."

"I can make more than spaghetti, Jack. I'm not completely inept."

"You shouldn't keep the fridge door open that long."

Bobby mimicked him under his breath but shut the door anyway, keeping the chicken in his hand. "Well, I'll just make chicken. We have barbecue sauce; that makes it good."

"And?"

"And?" Bobby looked at him.

Jack pulled himself up to sit on the countertop. "You can't just have chicken. You at least have to make something else too."

Bobby sighed. "I don't know why I told her I'd make dinner. I'm the last person she wants making it."

"I don't know why I'm supposed to help you."

"So that I don't give the family food poisoning, I imagine."

Jack rolled his eyes and yawned. "I'll just make it if you want."

"Dinner?" Bobby looked surprise. "Wow, I thought I was going to have to make you feel really bad for me, and then convince you to do it. Didn't expect you to just offer."

"It's just dinner."

"Still."

"And at least I'll be doing something," Jack explained. He tapped the back of his sneaker against the counter base he was sitting above. "And then I'll feel less tired. Or distracted from being tired."

"Not gonna argue that." Bobby held up the chicken. "Still want to cook this?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, everyone likes chicken."

Bobby nodded. "Okay then. Well I relinquish my kitchen duties to you." He gave Jack a nod and put the chicken on the counter before walking out of the kitchen.

Evelyn looked up at Bobby's entrance into the room. She was holding the baby on her lap, and the baby was playing with her necklace. "That was quick, Bobby. What are you making?"

"Jack's cooking," Bobby answered. "He couldn't handle me in the kitchen."

"Oh Bobby… Don't make him do it," she objected.

"He wanted something to do," Bobby answered with a shrug, walking over to take his seat on the couch with Jerry and Camille. "Honestly he did."

"I'm confused about this not sleeping thing," Jerry began. "Ma, why exactly are you letting him stay up? He said he's been up, what, fifty-six hours? That's ridiculous."

She simply shook her head. "Jerry, honey, you know that boy… He needs to learn for himself. He knows I'm not in favor of it..."

"It's crazy," he persisted. "You can tell he's miserable. He's going to get sick."

"I'm hoping he stops," she admitted. "I mean, he has to be too tired."

"It's not even science," Bobby spoke up.

"Yeah. It's for school, he said," Camille said. "What kind of class is that?"

"They didn't assign it," Evelyn answered. "It was pretty much an open assignment, and he had this crazy idea from another student. I don't even know what his teacher would say about it."

"Fifty-six hours," Jerry repeated. "Can you believe that? What do you even do for fifty-six hours?"

"He's got to fall asleep soon. I mean, if he doesn't… Well, then I'll have to put my foot down, because it's not healthy… I just want him to figure that out himself."

"He knows it's not healthy," Bobby answered. "You shouldn't have told him he could do it to begin with."

"You saw how he reacted to you, Bobby."

"Well, he's still just a kid. You just tell him what to do, and he has to do it."

"You especially should know that people don't _have_ to do anything," Evelyn answered. "And most of them know it. It's about choices, and making the right choice."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"I don't make decisions for any of you," Evelyn persisted. "He's can handle himself. And he'll make the right choice."

Bobby sighed and thought about the burn marks on Jack's wrist. Sure he could take care of himself. Jack's reality just had different rules than a lot of other people's. "I guess. I'm just tired of his bad moods. And picking him up from school."

"You picked him up?" she asked.

He nodded. "And drove him to school."

"That was generous of you, Bobby."

Jerry gave Bobby a look. "Who are you, and what the hell did you do to my brother?"

Bobby laughed. "I felt bad for him. I don't know why. I guess I woke up on the right side of the bed or something." He was about to say something else when they heard a glass break in the kitchen.

All their eyes shifted towards the sound, as though they would magically see what had happened.

Bobby pushed himself up off the couch. "Maybe he needs help more than I do."

Jerry just shook his head. "I'm gonna slip a sedative in his drink at dinner. That'll make him sleep."

"Jerry…" Evelyn objected.

Bobby walked into the kitchen to find Jack standing over broken glass on the floor. He blinked and looked up at the sound of Bobby's entrance.

"Klutzy?" Bobby asked.

Jack frowned. "There's water too. I…" He walked over to grab some paper towels from the counter. "I just got a glass of water, and I don't know. I just like lost grip on it."

"I'll help," Bobby answered, moving towards the mess. He crouched down and started to pick up the big pieces.

Jack moved back with a few sheets of paper towels and knelt down. He rolled up his sleeves and started to carefully blot up the water where there wasn't visible glass.

"So you just dropped it. Losing your motor skills there, man?" Bobby asked as he picked up another large piece of glass. "Should I trust you by the stove?"

"It was just an accident," Jack answered, shaking his head. "Just an accident." The paper towels soaked up the water.

Bobby glanced over at him, looking down at his efforts to clean up the water. His gaze lingered on Jack's wrists. "You do it again, Jack?"

"Do what?" Jack asked. He looked up and immediately saw where Bobby was looking. Irritably, he dropped the paper towel and pulled down his sleeves. "No."

"Why?"

Jack turned his attention to cleaning up the floor again. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Jack. Let's discuss this."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

Bobby sighed and stood up to go to the trash and throw out the glass he'd collected so far. "Jack, come on. Just tell me if you did it again."

"Don't know—"

"Fine. I'm telling Ma tonight then. Then you can discuss it with her and see if she buys your bullshit."

Jack looked up at him, looking betrayed. Bobby outstretched his hand to him to get the wet paper towels and Jack slowly handed them to him to throw out. "Bobby, seriously."

"Seriously what? It's messed up. I can tell you did it again. And if you can't tell me that, and you can't tell me why, then—"

"Stop," Jack persisted. He picked up some more glass, shaking his head. "Just stop."

"If this not sleeping thing's going to mess with your head," Bobby began, "then it's ending. You understand? Then it's ending right now."

"I'm fine," Jack answered. "You need to stop overanalyzing everything, Bobby. I didn't do anything."

"I'm not overanalyzing. Can't you just look me in the eye, and tell me the truth, Jack?"

Jack held the small glass pieces in the palm of his hand. "Don't do this now."

"Not now, then when?" Bobby persisted. "Listen, I can't just drop this, Jackie, and you know it. You think I would forget about it? I can't forget something like that."

"Not now…"

"When?"

Jack just knelt there, feeling trapped, and stared at the floor tiles. He wasn't sure how to respond. He couldn't believably deny it, as much as he tried, but he also couldn't rationally respond.

"Jack. Don't zone out on me," Bobby continued. "I mean it. You want me angry?"

"I just don't know what to say to you," Jack replied.

"You want me to tell Ma?"

Jack shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

Jack just made a face. "Bobby, I don't want to talk about any of this. You make things a really big deal."

"You're causing me to make it a big deal. Because you don't give me any answers."

"Can we just not do this now?"

"But you keep saying that. So when are you going to answer my questions?"

"Later."

"Later, Jack? When is later?"

Jack continued to collect the glass pieces. "I have this under control. You can go back inside now."

"I'll go back inside when I want to go back inside."

Jack didn't respond.

"Fine," Bobby agreed. "You have it under control. You can talk to Ma about it then."

Jack looked up and watched Bobby walk out of the kitchen. He felt a sinking feeling and wished he could call after Bobby and say something to fix things. But he didn't know what it would be that he could say. He didn't feel like he could sufficiently explain himself in a way that would be understood or expected.

He looked back at the broken glass. He resumed cleaning it up, taking a deep breath.

Nothing like another challenge.

----------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**----------------------------------------------  
**

After dinner, when Jerry and Camille left, the house suddenly slowed down again. Dinner went well and Jack felt good about it, but mostly because to make it had distracted him for a good hour. Once it was over, and there was no conversation to listen to at the dinner table, and no baby to watch toddle around the house, he found himself feeling restless again.

He was worried about Bobby talking to Evelyn, and what exactly he would say to her. Bobby didn't usually care what Jack did, so long as it wasn't something that affected him, so when he actually got bothered enough to try to force a conversation… and then threaten to tell Evelyn… Well, then it was kind of unnerving.

Jack didn't think of the burns as a big deal, and it kind of scared him that Bobby did. Mixed with the tiredness and anxiety was now a sickening feeling of guilt and worry.

But one good thing about Bobby was that he wouldn't tell Evelyn anything personal in front of anybody _but_ Evelyn, so with the business of the early evening, that probably meant that he hadn't said anything yet. And besides, Bobby was frequently full of threats, none of which he usually meant. He just wanted to get Jack to talk to him. Jack just didn't really see anything to talk about.

So Jack wasted a while worrying, turning the events over in his head for about an hour as he strummed his guitar upstairs for a little while and then sat on the couch absentmindedly watching TV.

When he saw Bobby come by, putting on his worn leather jacket and stuffing his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, Jack jumped up from the couch and followed him towards the door.

"Bobby."

"What Jack…" Bobby continued walking.

"Where are you going?" Jack began to think that Bobby was still sore their earlier disagreement before dinner, but didn't want to bring it up again by asking.

Bobby turned just before he reached the door, giving Jack a look. "Uhh…Out," he said slowly.

"Where?" Jack persisted,

"I'm meeting someone at a bar…"

"Where? Can I come? I'm bored."

"No." Bobby shook his head. "Ma doesn't want you at a bar on a school night."

"Why, because I'll be out late?" Jack answered, raising his eyebrows. "That doesn't apply now, if it is, because I'll be up all night anyway."

"Right… Well, fine. Then I don't want you to come."

"Why?"

"You're just looking for something to do, and I'm not going to entertain you. I already told you that."

"But—"

"Especially since you won't even talk to me. Just forget it. I really need to get out of the house."

"Bobby," Jack objected. "I always talk to you."

"When convenient. Or when you want something." Bobby stepped forward to open the door. "You're not dumb. I know how your mind works, at least in that respect. You'll talk when it's not about you."

"Can I come?" Jack persisted.

"Are you a deaf? I said no. And it's bar. You're fifteen."

"So? We both know most of the bars around here don't care."

"If they do, I don't feel like dealing with it." Bobby sighed. "I'm meeting somebody. Go watch a movie or something."

"A movie will put me to sleep."

"Jack. Leave me alone."

Jack made a face. "Well, who are you meeting?"

"None of your business. Why are nagging me?"

With a frown, Jack slowly asked, "Are you mad?"

Bobby shook his head and walked out the open door. "About earlier? Nope. Annoyed? A little. But I'll come back very late, maybe a little drunk, and completely forget about it, so don't get your panties in a bunch."

Bobby walked down the front steps and glanced behind to see Jack following him out, shutting the door behind him. "Uh-uhn. Where are you going?"

"I'm not coming with you," Jack muttered. "I'm going to buy cigarettes."

"Where?"

"Just down the street."

"I'll bring you back a pack. Go back inside."

"You won't. And if you do, you won't be home till whenever. Or never if you don't come home at all."

"I'm coming home, I already told you." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I'm meeting a couple dudes, not a chick. Just go inside, Jack."

"No, I need cigarettes."

Bobby stopped and took a deep breath. "First, you don't _need__'em_. Let's get that straight." He hated Jack going off alone at night, especially since parts of the area around them could be rough, and Jack could be oblivious. But he was also tired of babying Jack. "And whatever. Go. Just come back after, and don't go anywhere else."

He saw Jack roll his eyes and continued. "I mean it. Just 'cause you can't sleep, doesn't mean you can go walk off an hour away. I'm not picking you up."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You say that now." Bobby just shook his head and started walking towards his car. "I was going to tease you not to wait up…" He chuckled. "But I figure you will…"

Jack glared at Bobby and watched him head to his car. He didn't say anything else to him, just quietly saw him get in the car and drive off. Then he just sighed and continued to walk away from the house himself, thinking about how sad it was that the only thing he had to do was walk a few blocks to buy a pack of cigarettes.

And maybe some more caffeine pills.

--------------------------------------------------

Jack wasted about an hour for himself, walking as slowly as he could both to the store and back. With a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, missing the one that he smoked on the way back, he walked back into the house and found Evelyn sitting on the couch watching the news.

He walked over and sat down beside her.

"I was wondering when you'd be back," she said, glancing at him.

Jack looked at the TV screen. They were talking about some car accident on the highway. He looked for a minute and then blinked and looked away.

"Where's Bobby?" she asked. "I thought he was with you."

"Nah," he answered. "He went out."

"Where to?"

Jack shrugged. "Some bar. Said he was meeting somebody."

She just nodded. "Then where were you?"

"Went to buy a pack of cigarettes," he replied.

"And judging by the smell, smoked a few on the way back," she answered.

He rolled his eyes. "One."

She sighed. "It's enough."

"It really doesn't smell much," he replied.

"Yes, I'm sorry, you're right, sweetheart… Ash trays remind me of the finest cologne."

He laughed at her. "Whatever…"

"I've given up on you for now… You know I hate it… But as long as you don't smoke in my house…."

Jack didn't say anything, wondering if she was giving away that she knew he smoked in his bedroom. He imagined she did know. She usually wasn't so oblivious to things like that. But he didn't say anything anyway.

"You staying up again tonight?" she asked, conveniently changing the subject.

"Gonna try," Jack said, admitting to the fact it would be hard. "I guess waiting up for Bobby to get home is something to do at least."

She smirked. "I suppose." She paused. "You know, it's been a long time, Jackie…"

"Yeah."

"Does it feel like a lot?"

He laughed. "Yeah."

"Well, then… I mean, how about tonight… We make this the last night of it."

He turned his head, frowning in surprise. "Huh?"

"Don't you think tonight should be the last night of this, Jack? I think you've done enough."

He couldn't help feeling a little bit abandoned by the statement. Sure she frowned upon the idea of it… She was a mother; she was supposed to. But she from the beginning had said she would let him try it. Now she was changing her mind? She was deserting his determination.

"But you said that…" he trailed off. There was probably no use.

"I know what I said, Jackie…" she answered. "You know I thought it was a crazy idea from beginning, and you know I want to let you make your own decision. I just think putting your health at risk for a science project is something you should think twice about."

"I'm just going to stay up as long as I can…" Jack answered. "That was the idea from the beginning. To see the effects of it."

"I can already see the effects of it." She gave him a look. "And you're probably feeling it."

"Of course I feel _tired_," he replied. "It would be crazy not to."

"There's no way to force you to sleep," she continued. "And I wouldn't try to. But it's just so disappointing to see you do this."

Disappointing… Jack repeated it in his head. Why would she say that? How did it affect her? Yes, so what it if was stupid? If it was stupid then they should just be able to ignore it, see it as his little crazy challenge.

After a moment, when Jack hadn't responded, Evelyn continued. "So what do you think, Jack? Is it really a good idea?"

"I never said it was a good idea though."

"I know, Jack… It's just I think you've already stayed awake much longer than anybody in this house could've, so don't make a decision to torture yourself because you're afraid of one of the boys saying they told you so."

"I don't care if they say that though."

"Okay, well I hope that's true, honey. Because you realize they're just going to tease you about anything they can."

He shrugged. Of course. They never left him alone. This wasn't news to him.

"Really, honey. You're the bigger person when you don't let it bother you. They have no reason to tease you if you don't give them the satisfaction of a reaction."

"Okay, I really don't care."

"Just think about it…" she answered. "Making tonight the last night." She sighed and smiled at him. "Speaking of sleep. I think I'm going to get some rest myself." She reached over and stroked his cheek. "Have a good night, sweetheart."

He nodded, not looking away from the TV. "Night… Where's Angel?"

She got up from the couch. "Sofi's I think." She rolled her eyes. "That crazy boy. The two of them are two peas in a pod. There's another worry." She sighed. "Well, I'll see you in the morning."

He watched her leave the room and then got up a moment later. He started for the kitchen. He felt it was just about time to take a couple caffeine pills. And what better to wash them down with than Coke?

--------------------------------------

Bobby parked his car outside, glancing at the digital clock disdainfully before turning off the car. Four forty-five. It felt like he hadn't been out that long, but at the same time it did feel extremely late.

As he got out of the car and walked towards the front door, he took a deep breath. He realized just how tired, and fairly drunk, he was. He yawned as he walked up the front steps and pushed open the front door, surprised it wasn't locked.

The house was pretty quiet, and dark, but glancing to his left he could see the light from the TV flashing subtly.

He walked in and as expected, found Jack on the couch, slouched down comfortably with his legs stretched out straight in front of him. And he was wide awake.

Bobby looked at the TV for a moment to figure out the movie. In a moment he realized it was Die Hard.

He walked over and sat down beside Jack, noticing how he more fell into the couch than sat. He realized the room was spinning a little bit and started to regret that last beer. "Hey, fucker."

Jack merely glanced at him.

Bobby eyed the can of Coke in Jack's hand and reached for it, taking it and enjoying a long sip of the cold drink. "Ah."

"You smell like cheap beer," Jack told him.

Bobby let out a belch. "Yeah, that just about sums up my night."

"You drove?"

Bobby glanced at him and then handed him back his drink. "Yeah." He didn't miss the look on Jack's face. "I'm a good driver," he said defensively. "No matter what. Don't give me that judgmental shit."

Jack didn't say anything.

Bobby noticed the five cans of Coke sitting on the end table beside Jack. "Those empty?"

Jack followed his gaze and saw what he was talking about, then nodded. "Yeah… I love caffeine…"

Bobby rolled his eyes. He eyed the caffeine pill bottle half hidden by one of the cans. "And the pills too?"

"Amazing," Jack replied

"Abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous."

Jack cringed at the strong smell of beer that came off of Bobby's breath.

Bobby yawned and stretched his arms above his head, looking at the TV again. "Good movie."

"Action." Jack nodded. "Like caffeine."

"I bet…" Bobby muttered. "You know the worst part of my drive home was realizing that you would probably still be up, in the same delirious state I left you in."

"You're the drunk one. I'm not delirious…"

"Of course not."

"I'm not. I feel really good right now. It hits you like a twenty minutes after you take them."

"The caffeine?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

Bobby looked at him. He did look pretty alert, especially considering the lack of sleep and the time of night. His eyes were slightly red though, and Bobby thought he could see dark circles faintly visible around his eyes.

"Show me them again, will you?" Bobby put out his hand. Reluctantly, Jack handed him the pill bottle. Bobby turned it to view the dosage. "How many did you take?"

"Two last time," Jack answered.

Bobby read bottle to himself. 200 mg per tablet. Serving size. One tablet.

"One, Jack."

"Huh?" Jack watched the TV as Bruce Willis appeared, covered in blood and sweat.

"It says you take one."

Jack shrugged, tapping his fingers against the can in his hand. "It's like a cup of coffee. You can have a few cups of coffee, no problem."

"Do you see under the warnings here where it says 'do not use as a substitute for sleep'?"

Jack laughed. "Yeah, I thought it was funny. Ironic."

"When'd you take 'em before now?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know. A couple hours ago or something I guess." He took a sip of his Coke.

"Jack." Bobby took a frustrated breath. "Let's read some more of it." He paused. "When using this product, limit the use of caffeine containing medications, foods, or beverages. Do not take more than one tablet more often than every three to four hours."

"I can read too."

"Yeah, but can you comprehend?" Bobby gave him a look and then viewed the cans of Coke again, counting and then figuring the pills, at least three, in the past two hours. "Jack. You're a fucking idiot."

Jack took the bottle back and turned it to read the front. "Functional caffeine to help restore mental alertness so you can accomplish all the things you want to do and all the things you need to do," he read. "Perfect. It's letting me do what I want."

"How many you had today?"

"I don't know. I bought these just before so…" He shrugged. "Four in the last few hours? So it's like four cups of coffee."

"It's not like coffee." Bobby shook his head. "No more tonight."

"Well, not right now. But in a couple hours—"

"No," Bobby replied.

"It is like coffee. I read it. And you can't tell me what—"

Bobby slapped Jack upside the head with his open palm. "Stop it. Grow the fuck up and stop it."

Jack didn't say anything, simply leaning back into the couch with a sulking look on his face. His chest rose with his breaths, slightly faster than normal.

Bobby set his jaw, watching the TV for a moment. "How do you feel?"

Jack said nothing.

"Jack. Seriously. You're taking more than double the amount of something that's not good for you to begin with, and if you feel—"

"I feel fucking fine, Bobby."

"Okay."

Jack paused, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. "I'm going to get a tattoo."

"What?" Bobby's mind was still on the caffeine.

"I'm going to get a tattoo," Jack repeated.

"Why?"

"I've just been thinking about it. I really want one."

"Tattoo of what? Caffeine pills?"

"No."

"What then?"

Jack continued to stare at the ceiling. "I don't know."

"You don't know. Well, you've thought a lot about it, obviously. Good. How about one right across your forehead that says 'I'm Gay'?"

Jack ignored him. "Maybe a crucifix."

Bobby pressed his lips together. "You're not even religious."

"It would be nice to be."

"Nice to be religious," Bobby repeated. "Deep, Jack. Why would it be nice?"

"To have faith."

"You have faith or you don't. You don't just permanently ink a crucifix on yourself and suddenly have faith."

"It would be nice to have faith."

"Again, deep," Bobby replied sarcastically.

"You have a tattoo."

"Observant and deep. You're a keeper."

Jack blinked, suddenly sitting up, as though startled.

Bobby looked at him critically, brow furrowing in puzzlement. Between the random conversation and the way he was acting… "What the fuck is up with you?"

"When you look at the ceiling for a long time," Jack began, "it starts moving. All around." He turned his head. "I wonder if the wall will do it too. Like an _illusion_."

Bobby stared at him. "What?"

"It does. Try it. It's weird. You just have to look long enough."

Bobby watched Jack stare at the wall. "Jack."

"Hmm."

"Look at me."

Jack turned his head, looking at Bobby with a frown. "What?"

"Go to bed."

Jack shook his head. "It's almost five. That means I'm at seventy-one hours."

"Seventy-one. You're a fucking idiot. You know that?"

"I don't care." Jack shrugged.

"Go to bed."

"No."

"Jack—"

"I have to 'get up' for school in about an hour anyway," Jack said. "So there's definitely no point in you trying to convince me." He paused. "Where can I get a tattoo anyway?"

"What, now?"

There was a glint in Jack's eye. "Hey, yeah… Want to take me now?"

"First off, I'm not taking you. Especially not now. I bet Ma would just love me to _ever_ come home again, taking you to get a tattoo at five o'clock in morning while drunk."

Jack didn't respond right away. A moment later he simply said, "I'm hungry." He got up. "Is there still pizza leftover?"

"Pizza…" Bobby echoed. "If there is, make me a slice." He watched Jack disappear and then glanced over at the pills on the end table. He glanced toward the doorway again before reaching over and taking them. He slipped them into his wallet and resumed watching TV.

Several minutes later, Jack came back with two slices of reheated pizza, a thrilled look on his face.

------------------------------------------------

Jack didn't notice the pills were missing until an hour and a half later, after a shower and a large bowl of cereal. He knew he would have to leave for school soon, and he also knew there was no way he was making it through a full school day, which he intended to try, without those pills. He felt like the effects of them wore off a lot sooner than the bottle said. More like after an hour, not three.

When he didn't see the pills on the end table, he looked around the room, by the TV, by the other chair, on the couch… He'd cleared the Coke cans not too long ago, and realized he hadn't seen the pills then either.

He immediately thought of Bobby. The way Bobby had reread the bottle and had seen him put the pills back in the same spot.

He stalked off towards Bobby's room.

The man's room was dark, and Bobby was just a lump under a pile of blankets. Jack switched on the light and approached the bed. "Bobby," he said stiffly.

Bobby stirred a little bit, Jack could see the covers moving, but he didn't say anything. Frustrated, Jack punched the lump under the covers.

Bobby groaned and pulled down the covers, glaring at Jack and squinting at the light. "What the _fuck_ do you want…" he nearly growled. He strained to see his clock. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Where'd you put them?"

Bobby looked miserable. "I don't even know what you're talking about…"

"The pills. Where did you put them?"

Bobby rubbed at his eyes, slightly unnerved by the panicky sound in Jack's voice as he asked for the pills. "Go to school, Jack."

"Where _are they_?" Jack persisted.

Bobby looked at him. Jack had a feral look to him. "Go to school."

"No. Not until you tell me where you put them."

"You already took some just over an hour ago," Bobby answered, voice hoarse. He felt nauseous and had an extreme desire to sleep all day. Not wake up after an hour of shallow sleep with the leftover remnants of drunkenness nauseating him. The pizza wasn't mixing well with all that beer…

"I don't need it for now," Jack answered. "For later. Where did you put them?"

Bobby just shook his head and turned his head over on the pillow, pulling the blanket back up over his face. He took a deep breath, ready to go back to sleep, and was startled when a big weight fell upon him.

Jack yanked back the covers, on top of Bobby with his knee digging into the man's rips. "Tell me!" he persisted.

"Get the fuck off…" Bobby shoved him. "You're being a dick." He shoved him again, but Jack was persistent. "I'm going to be sick all over you if you don't get the fuck off." He gave a final, strong push, and Jack nearly fell to the floor.

"I'm not going without them. I bought them. You can't just take them."

"I didn't say I took 'em."

"You didn't say you didn't!"

Bobby narrowed his eyes. Jack was looking at him furiously, with tired eyes and flushed pink cheeks, looking like he was ready to fight to the death for something so trivial. Bobby thought the whole thing was crazy. "Get out of my room before I move you out myself."

"TELL ME."

"You're having a tantrum over fucking pills?" Bobby snapped. "I can't believe you." He pushed Jack off again and climbed out of bed roughly, nearly knocking over the lamp on his night table as he did so. He stood there in nothing but his boxers and pointed at the door. "Get out _now_ and _go to school_."

"No, Bobby." Jack sat on the edge of the bed stubbornly. "Tell me where and then I will."

"No, I'm sick of this! Get the fuck out my bed, Jack!" Bobby clenched his fists. "C'mon! It's fucking six-thirty in the morning! Do I have to carry you out?"

Jack heaved a sigh, looking at Bobby's biceps and knowing he probably would do it too. But he needed them. He didn't know how he would spend the day in school otherwise. And he couldn't buy more. He had barely any money left. So he tried again.

"Just _tell_ me. They're _mine_."

Bobby looked exasperated. He shook his head and with gritted teeth, repeated, "Get. Out. Now."

Jack surrendered and got up. "Fine." He walked away from the bed. "Whatever." He walked towards the door, and then noticed Bobby's wallet on top of the dresser.

He eyed Bobby getting back into bed, then picked up the wallet and opened it. "I'll just reimburse myself then." All that was in there was a twenty and he pulled it out, stuffing it into his pocket as he dropped the wallet back on the dresser, heading towards the door.

Bobby eyed him from bed. "What'd you take?"

"Just enough to cover what you took."

Bobby jumped up, following him out the door. "Jack. You're a pain in the ass, you know it? Give me whatever you took, you fucking thief."

Jack hurried down the hall with Bobby on his heels. He almost ran towards the kitchen, where he'd left his backpack and nearly collided into Evelyn, who was on her way out of the kitchen.

"Honey…" she objected, taking a surprised breath and putting her hand over her chest. "You scared me."

"I—" He was cut off as Bobby came up behind him, forcing him into a headlock and bending his arm behind his back.

"Bobby," Evelyn objected, watching Jack try to struggle out of his brother's hold, a mixed look of fear and frustration on his face. "Bobby, what are you doing? Let him go."

"He's a thief," Bobby said irritably, keeping the writhing Jack in a headlock as he intrusively dug his hand into Jack's pockets.

"Bobby Mercer," Evelyn reprimanded. "Stop it."

Bobby held up the twenty dollar bill victoriously. "See? He—OW!" He jumped back as Jack's sneaker came down hard on his bare foot. "Jesus!"

Jack snatched the money back and then ducked back, conveniently behind Evelyn. "I'm going to school," he said, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna be late."

"Don't hide behind Ma," Bobby said angrily. "Give me my money back."

"What is the matter with you two?" Evelyn demanded, feeling Jack's shaking hand on her arm, gripping her sleeve. She studied barely clothed Bobby, eyeing his scowl and dark eyes. "Will someone explain? Jack, you're going to be late for the bus."

"He's gonna be more than that…" Bobby retorted.

"Bobby," Evelyn rebuked. "You're being ridiculous. Act your age. What are you getting out of scaring him?"

"My money back," Bobby snapped. "Act my age? He's the one cowering behind you like a fucking baby. Jack, give me my money back."

"Jack, is it his?" Evelyn asked.

"Not really," Jack answered. "Because he took something of mine and—"

"The caffeine pills," Bobby explained, scratching his head and giving Evelyn a perturbed look. "I took them because he's taking too many. This whole thing is ridiculous."

She sighed.

"If you give them back," Jack said, "then I'll give your money back." He eyed his backpack sitting on a chair in the kitchen and walked away to get it. "Otherwise, I'm going to school."

"I've had enough of this, Ma," Bobby said stiffly while Jack grabbed his bag. "He's done."

"I know, Bobby. I talked to him yesterday and—"

"Enough is enough with it. It's stupid. And I need to talk to you today about more," Bobby persisted. He caught Jack's eye as the fifteen year old reappeared with his bag slung over his shoulder. He knew by the look in Jack's eye that he'd caught the statement.

"We can talk now before I leave, or later," Evelyn agreed. "Of course."

Bobby nodded. "First I need to go back to bed." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Can I have my money, Jack?"

Jack didn't answer right away and then simply said, "I need to go to school."

"No more caffeine, Jack," Evelyn said. "You understand? I agree with Bobby for hiding the pills. I saw how much soda you had last night, and it's just not good. No more. Now go catch your bus."

Jack just simply nodded in the distracted way he usually did when he didn't want to be having a particular conversation or confrontation. He eyed Bobby as he walked past them towards the front door.

Evelyn listened to the front door open and close and then looked at Bobby. "You know how I feel about you threatening him, Bobby," she said. She walked past him towards the couch to get her purse. "Or manhandling him."

"Me?" Bobby replied in surprise.

"Yes, Bobby. He was shaking. You think he's used to you by now, but you can make him very anxious sometimes."

"Oh, it's me, of course. Not the caffeine overload, or the fact he hasn't been sleeping for seventy-two hours."

"Bobby…" She gave him a pointed look. "I didn't say it was your fault for anything… I just said that there's no need for you to bully him."

"I'll bully him all I want when he wakes me up at six in the morning and steals money from my wallet," Bobby answered.

"Patience, sweetheart... You'll get your money back."

"I'm out of patience." He watched her zip up her purse and shook his head. "He's going to make himself go crazy. He takes those caffeine pills like they're candy. I think last night he took about four in about a four hour gap. You're supposed to take one every three hours if you even take them."

She shook her head. "It's crazy what pills they sell now…" She looked at Bobby's expression. "Honey, you know I agree with you. I've had enough too. And I will definitely talk to him again when he gets home from school."

"If he makes it through a day of school…" Bobby muttered.

"He will. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes." Bobby paused. "Well, no. Kind of. It's about Jack. But it's more than the whole not sleeping thing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"

He shook his head. "Well talk later."

She nodded. "Okay…" She sighed. "Well, it looks like you should get back to bed, so I'm going to head off to work."

Bobby nodded and watched her walk away. He had a bad feeling about the rest of the day.

---------------------------------------------------

_**Author's note:**_

_Okay so I'm kind of on a momentum with this and might have chapter 6 up fairly quickly…. I have some trouble planned for our Jack, and while I'm in the mood for it, I might as well keep writing, right? Thanks for the reviews, and keep them coming! I really appreciate it and it's definitely a huge motivation._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jack was almost disappointed that he didn't miss the bus. The last thing he wanted to do was go to school. He was tired and annoyed. The annoyance was a natural product of being tired, but it was now heightened by the events of the morning.

He was tired of Bobby patronizing him and trying to control the situation. Mostly because he would just decide that he wanted to be in control on a whim, not because he had any right. At the same time, Evelyn had gone from grudgingly allowing him independence to now telling him to stop as well. It was one thing to have Bobby telling him he was an idiot, but now with Evelyn's added 'disappointment', it was that much more aggravating.

Still, no matter how against it Bobby was, he had no right to just take the pills. That was stupid and infuriating. Jack didn't regret one bit taking the money from him. He also had every intent to spend the money to buy more pills. He needed them.

In the beginning, he thought the caffeine would be a back-up. He knew he would eventually need it; after all, it wasn't like staying awake this long was natural, so he'd expected it to be hard. He also had expected he'd need help. But he didn't realize he would depend on it so much.

The higher level of energy that the caffeine caused when it kicked in was kind of like an addiction now. He wished it lasted longer than it did. When it started to wear off, and he felt the fatigue and inability to concentrate set back in, he knew he needed more. There was no way he could finish without it.

He barely noticed when the bus reached of the school. He just suddenly realized that everyone else was filing out of the bus and snapped himself back to reality, climbing to his feet and leaving the bus like everyone else. He glanced at his watch and then at the school.

His head was killing him. He'd had the same intense headache since he'd left the house. It was pounding behind his eyes. It was an angry headache. It was mad at him like he was mad at Bobby and Evelyn.

Before class started, he definitely had time to run down the block to that same convenience store. After all, homeroom was first. That definitely wasn't important. He could be a little late.

He walked quickly anyway, realizing he'd missed enough of school this week that it might actually start having consequences. The good thing was that at this time in the morning, the store was pretty empty and he was able to buy the pills and a can of soda without much of a wait.

On the walk back to the school, he finished the can of soda in big gulps and swallowed two pills with it. Drinking so much soda at once made him feel very full. Between that and the headache, he started to wish that he'd bought some aspirin too.

Even though he'd walked fast, he was still late. Glancing at his watch, he realized he should have walked much faster.

He nearly stumbled into his English class. Everyone looked up, and he suddenly felt very conspicuous, wondering why classroom doors were always in the front of the room to draw so much attention to latecomers. He shut the door behind him quietly and started to walk towards his desk.

The teacher, a middle-aged, redheaded woman, cleared her throat. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Jack?"

He felt the class's eyes on him again, like they were burning through him with scrutiny, and suddenly felt naked. He nodded at the teacher and sighed.

"Class…" she said as she got up from her desk. "Keep reading to page forty seven. We'll be discussing the comprehension questions on forty-eight when you're done." She approached Jack with a judgmental frown on her face and nodded towards the door. "Let's talk outside."

He rolled his eyes and headed back towards the door, opening it and stepping out into the empty hall.

She was quiet at first, and he dropped his bookbag off his shoulder to the floor, breaking the silence with the sound of his books hitting the ground.

"Jack," she began, watching him slump against the lockers behind him. "This is the fourth time in two weeks that you have come in halfway through my class."

He didn't respond, instead staring a large crack in the floor.

"It's not just a few minutes late, and it's not just once. It's consistent, and it's disrespect."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Is there anything you want to say?" she persisted. "Any explanation? I mean, this is unacceptable. I know English Lit might not be the best wake-up in the morning, Jack, but it is a required class and I expect your respect."

He remained quiet. He felt like it was rhetorical anyway. What was he supposed to say to her?

"I'm marking you as absent today," she continued. "Additionally, I expect you to be on time for the rest of the term."

Silence passed between them. He heard a door slamming down the hall somewhere and looked towards it. He didn't think that was fair, to be marked absent when you were actually there, but he didn't feel bold enough to object.

"Jack," she persisted, frustrated by his silence. "Look... If you don't answer me… if you won't even look at me when I'm talking to you… Then I'll just send you to the office, like I should anyway. Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

He looked up at her, frowning. Finally he spoke. "No."

She studied him, brow furrowing with a new look of worry. "Jack… Is everything okay? You look absolutely exhausted, and to be honest, recently—"

"I've been up for more than seventy hours," he replied.

She raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me? How long?"

"Seventy…" he glanced at his watch. "I don't know. Seventy three or four."

She looked genuinely surprised, and then a little skeptical. "Are you serious? May I ask why?"

"I'm serious," he answered. "Of course I'm serious."

"But… Why?"

He scratched at his shaggy hair, suddenly wishing he could take another cold shower. But he could start to feel the pills working again and knew he'd be okay for an hour or so. There was a slowly creeping sense of alertness coming back over him.

That was good.

Caffeine was good.

"Jack?" she persisted.

He blinked, realizing she was still in front of him. "What?"

"Why have you been up so long?"

"Because I can," he answered. He frowned and looked down the hall again.

"Would you like to go to the nurse, Jack…?" the teacher began, crossing her arms over her chest.

"The nurse?" he echoed. "No. Why?"

"Do your parents know that you've been staying up this long? I mean, seventy… I'm not even sure I can believe that." She glanced towards her classroom door, from which she could hear her own class talking, obviously not reading independently as she'd instructed them to. Her look of frustration doubled.

"Then don't," Jack answered simply, sighing.

She frowned at him and then shook her head. "Jack, I need to get back to my class. But if—"

"If you're marking me absent anyway," Jack began, studying his thumbnail, "then that means it doesn't matter if I come or not… Right?"

"That is not what it means," she replied. "Jack, listen to me. I'm giving you a warning. If your behavior doesn't improve dramatically, we're going to have to do something about it."

"Right."

She shook her head at him. "It wouldn't kill you to respect your teachers, Jack."

He didn't reply. But he did pick up his bag and reluctantly follow her back inside the classroom, ignoring the students that continued to stare at him. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care for anyone else to tell him what to do.

"Class!" She clapped her hands as she returned to the front of the room. "I don't see you reading! How many of you have read the ten pages yet…? Maybe we'll have a quiz instead of discussing the questions, how does that sound?"

The class quieted down and she resumed her authority, calling on a kin in the front row to read out loud. Jack took out a notebook and started to amuse himself by drawing little pictures in the margin. He began thinking about a tattoo again began sketching a detailed crucifix. After a couple of minutes, he suddenly began to simply stare at the light blue lines across the paper.

The started to swim in front of him. Like an illusion, suddenly none of the lines looked straight, although he knew they undoubtedly were. They had to be. He tried to trace one of the lines to prove it to himself, but found himself unable to because the line kept skipping away from the tip of his pencil.

Confused, he dropped the pencil onto the page and slouched down in his chair, staring at the notebook. Now the blue lines looked green. He blinked and shut the book, listening in the back of his mind to the student reading slowly from the front of the room.

Suddenly he felt a little bit sick.

It was probably from drinking the soda so fast. That mixed with the talk from the teacher. Whenever anyone spoke to him directly like he felt this residual surge of anxiety that would make his stomach turn.

He attributed some of it to his headache and wished again that he'd bought some aspirin. Staring at this notebook wasn't getting him anywhere. He picked up the pencil again, tapping it against the red front cover of the notebook, feeling restless. The kid reading kept stumbling over words and just reading so slow…

He saw a dark spot form on the red cover and realized he'd been staring at it too long as well. He started tapping his foot, taking another deep breath. He began starting to tap the pencil in a rhythm, the same rhythm he'd thought up a few days ago for a guitar riff. After a moment, he noticed the blonde girl sitting next to him, who he knew to be a cheerleader, glaring at him.

He met her eye.

"Can you stop?" she whispered with a grimace. "That's so annoying."

He ignored her, turning back to staring at the notebook. He tapped the pencil a little bit lighter.

"Freak…" she muttered.

He thought about the teacher's surprised look when he'd told her how long he'd been up. Was it really that terrible? He thought it was pretty impressive that he'd made it this far, and that it would at least distract her from lecturing him about being late. Perhaps it had diverted the lecture a little bit…

He was nearly yawning again by the end of the class, but he was thankful that he hadn't gotten called on. One because he didn't have the book they were reading, but also because after what the notebook had done to his eyes after staring at it for a few minutes, he couldn't imagine trying to read anything. This headache was brutal.

Walking to his next class, he couldn't believe it was still so early in the morning, and that he had only sat through a portion of his first class. He didn't want to believe that, since it felt like an eternity had passed. Today was going to be tough, he could tell.

He had a desire to write to the caffeine company and tell them that their 3-4 hour estimate for duration of effects was a bold faced lie… No more than an hour, for sure. And that was with taking more than one, above the recommended dosage. It was kind of like with Tylenol or Advil. Sure it said to take one or two, but that didn't really help much. You always had to take more.

At least they did help him stay awake though; for as short a time as it was, it was something.

He made his way slowly to econ class and got there just as the bell rang. He walked towards his seat with the other students tiredly, glad again to have a seat in the back of the classroom where he could just slouch down and zone out.

After a few minutes of supply and demand talk he sighed, wondering how he was going to make it through the day. Caffeine and walking around was fine… But once he got to class, it was like a heavy weight hit him.

He slouched down in his seat and tried to pay attention, finding himself simply just zoning out. For a few minutes he studied the writing on the desk, the things different people had etched into the wood. He saw one that he'd done a few weeks ago. It said BORING in big bold letters. Someone had written below it FUCKING RIGHT. He smirked.

The rest of the class was a blur. That was, until the end when he suddenly felt a strong tap on his shoulder.

He looked up abruptly, barely remembering where he was.

His econ teacher was standing in front of him. A tall gray haired man who suddenly didn't look very happy.

"My class is not meant to sleep through, Mr. Mercer."

Jack looked around. The whole class was gone except for a couple kids who were just chatting as they left.

He was stunned.

"I was sleeping?" he asked.

The man nodded. "Yes, Jack. You know… Gracing us with your presence means very little if you fail to stay awake."

"I couldn't have been sleeping," Jack persisted. He was shocked.

"Well, I assure you, you were. Don't let it happen again."

Jack frowned. He wanted to object again, because he couldn't have been sleeping, it was against the whole last seventy three hours of his existence. But he couldn't remember the last hour and had no proof to deny it.

He had nothing to say, but the teacher was walking away from him anyway.

Perplexed, Jack slid out of the desk and grabbed his bag, feeling nervous and confused. He left the classroom with a mixture of guilt and anxiety. How could he not even remember? One minute he was staring at the desk and the next he was suddenly being told he'd been sleeping.

How long had he been sleeping? Was it enough to count against him? Or had he just closed his eyes? If he'd just closed his eyes and zoned out, well then that wasn't sleeping.

Caffeine was a lie. He walked down the hall trying to equate in his mind how many cups of coffee it would take right now to stay awake. This one or two thing wasn't doing it.

He stopped at a water fountain and pulled open his bag, fishing around for the pills. He found them at the bottom of his bag and tried to think in his mind. It had been a couple hours, right?

Three this time. Three would have to do the trick. At least until lunch.

He swallowed them quickly, one after the other, wincing as the last one almost lodged in his throat. He took another gulp of water and swallowed it down before picking up his backpack again and darting off towards his next class.

Like before, he got to his desk just as the bell rang and let out a sigh of relief. Just as soon as the teacher began speaking, he began to feel a little more alert. That was good. This would work.

It was after about ten minutes though that they really started to kick in. He started to feel extremely restless and kept bouncing his leg, tapping his foot against the floor. He was alert… but this was different.

Really different.

He was alert but he couldn't focus. The teacher's voice became to sound farther and farther away. He started to feel his heart beat a bit faster. Then suddenly he could _hear _his heart.

It was weird. He felt weird all over and started to worry. He was most definitely awake, and that was what he needed, but this felt a lot different than the other times. Why did the teacher sound like she was muffled? He could see her lips moving and watched her walk around the front of the room, but her slowly her words began to echo, like the room they were in was huge. Like he was swimming in the room.

Under water. It sounded like they were under water.

He tried to ignore it. Tried to think of different things. But it became too obvious.

It made him nervous. He didn't look at her anymore. Instead, he looked down at his hands, which he put on the desk. They were trembling. That scared him too, so he slipped them under the desk to his lap, out of sight.

What was going on?

Why was his heart so loud? And so fast?

Like a drum. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Someone in the class had been called on. They sounded like they were under water too. Deep, far under the ocean under water, and he almost couldn't make out what they were saying. His heart overpowered them, thumping hard in his head, almost along with the throbbing aches of his headache.

The room was wobbling.

He suddenly had the urge to jump up out of his seat and run out of there. There was something really wrong with this classroom. It was moving, it was blurring, and it just felt weird. The voices were scaring him, and so was his heart. He'd never felt his heart beat so fast in his life.

Was he having a heart attack?

Was this what it was like to have a heart attack?

He'd never met anybody before who'd had a heart attack. He didn't even know what the symptoms were. All he knew was that his heart kept getting faster and faster, and the sound was so loud in his head, resounding through his whole body.

Suddenly he was scared. Maybe he was sleeping, like he'd apparently done in the last class. Except he didn't remember anything while sleeping before and now… Now this was too real. Way too real.

The next few minutes were agony. He sat there panicking, but it wasn't like any panic attack he'd ever experienced before. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He looked at his hands again and they were still shaking. He realized he was still tapping his foot, even though for a moment he hadn't thought about it.

He was going crazy…

Was it suddenly hitting him? Is this what it was like? Not sleeping for seventy three hours? How long had it even been? He wasn't sure exactly what time it was.

He looked at his watch but he couldn't make out the numbers on the dial. They were too small, and it looked like it was spinning, like a record, inside the glass case of the watch. He quickly hid his hands again.

He took deep breaths and then started to feel self-conscious. What if the people around him noticed? Clearly he was going crazy, but could they tell too? Or was this all a terrible dream? A daydream? A nightmare.

A wave of nausea came over him as the room spun again and then wobbled.

He glanced around. No one seemed to be paying attention to him, but… Then again… He could barely see them.

After another few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. He was going to throw up. He most definitely was going to throw up.

Terrified, he slid out of his desk and grabbed his bag. He almost knocked over his chair in doing so and a few of the students looked at him. He couldn't see the expression on their faces but he was sure they thought he was crazy. A freak. Just like that girl had told him. He was a freak.

The floor moved beneath him as he hurried out of the classroom. He was sure he almost heard his name called under the water, but he couldn't be sure, and didn't want to be sure. He fumbled for the doorknob and pushed the door open, hurrying out.

He stumbled into the hallway and took a deep breath as the door shut behind him. For a moment, he closed his eyes, but he could still see the hall.

It was wobbling too. The whole world was shaking. Or was it just him?

There was a bathroom nearby. He rushed to it and pushed open that door, making his way to a stall. There he dropped to his knees and threw up.

He pushed back his hair, feeling his forehead damp and realized he was sweating. As he thought about it, he realized he was burning up. He felt like he was on fire.

He threw up again and was concerned that his heart was beating even faster, even louder. Maybe he would throw up his heart too.

The toilet was filled with yellow. Why was he throwing up yellow?

He rested there on his knees for a moment and couldn't understand what was going on. He was still shaking, he was still hearing his heart.

Why was it so fast?

He wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't go back to class like this. Not that room. That room was spinning and was underwater. He couldn't concentrate in there, and he couldn't sit there without thinking he was going crazy.

He was terrified.

He was having a heart attack.

He got up shakily and managed to flush the toilet. He left the stall, realizing he'd never locked the door behind him, and stumbled toward the sink.

He threw some cold water on his face and looked in the mirror. He could see his face. His eyes were red from throwing up. He cupped his hands and filled them with water, bending forward to drink some and wash out his mouth. His throat was burning.

Suddenly the mirror shifted and looked like a big black empty hole. He looked away from it and shook his head.

Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he stood there for a moment. Freaked out. Like a freak.

He found his bag, which he'd left in the stall, and picked it up. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

He didn't know what to do. Could he go to the nurse? What could he do? What would she say?

He cautiously made his way back to the whirling hallway, stepping out fearfully…

oooooooooooooo

Angel had just gotten home from Sofi's, late in the morning. He was making himself a grilled cheese sandwich, starving, when the phone rang. He nearly burned himself as he flipped over the sandwich and turned down the range heat before he walked over to grab the phone on the second ring.

He wondered if it would be Sofi again. She often called him a few minutes after he would get home. He smiled to himself as he answered.

"Yo," he said.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a voice said, "Hey."

Angel frowned, and it took him a second, but he knew that voice. "Jack?"

Another pause. "Why can I barely hear you?"

"I can hear you fine. What's up?"

There was silence on the other end. Angel could hear Jack breathing.

"Where are you?" Angel asked, rolling his eyes. "If you're not at school, you're gonna get yourself suspended, asshole. You can't skip that much in a week."

"Uh…." There was another long pause, and Angel frowned. His teasing mentality started to fade. There was something wrong with Jack's tone.

"Dude," Angel said. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." Jack sniffed. "Yeah…"

"Man, are you at school or what?"

"Yeah."

Angel glanced towards the stove. "Well, what then? You forget something?"

There was no response, and Angel rolled his eyes. "What's up, Jack? I'm in the middle of making myself something to eat. I gotta get back to the stove. I'm starving."

"Bobby."

"Huh?"

"Bobby," Jack insisted.

"What about Bobby?"

"I need Bobby."

Angel scratched his head, feeling his stomach rumble. Jack could be so weird sometimes. "He's sleeping, man. I think he got in real late last night. What do you need?"

Jack sighed deeply into the phone and then inhaled sharply.

Angel sighed himself. "Whattaya need, man? Ma ain't home either."

"No…. Bobby. I need Bobby."

Angel noticed Jack's tone was a little off. His voice was kind of weak, quiet… But Jack got into his moods sometimes, and Angel never knew what he wanted or understood what he got moody about. He figured this time it was just the same overtired, school-hating mentality that he'd seen out of him for the past few days.

"If you want him to pick you up from school again, especially now, you might as well go back to class," Angel replied with a sigh. "He won't do it."

"No…." Jack insisted, like he was getting choked up. "Bobby."

"What the fuck is up with you? I told you. He's sleeping."

Jack didn't answer. Instead he let out this groan. "I think I'm sick, Angel."

"Sick? Well…" Angel took a deep breath. "I don't know what Bobby can do about that. I'm pretty sure you're fine or faking, and he'll see right through it. I'm not waking him up."

Jack groaned again. "Why can't I hear you?" he cried out.

"I can hear you fine…" Angel answered. "Man, what is up with you?"

"Please… Get Bobby…"

Angel paused. Jack's tone was definitely different. There was something about that pleading that made him pause. Maybe something was actually wrong. Jack never called like this. And he wouldn't dare call Bobby for a ride again, would he? He knew better than that. He never made up being sick, especially.

Jack breathed again. "Please."

"Okay," Angel conceded. "I'll try to wake him up…. But he ain't gonna be very happy 'bout it. You know…?"

"I just… I need to ask him….." Jack moaned.

Angel frowned and nodded. "Alright, alright. Just hang on. I'll go get him…"

Angel set the phone down on the counter, muttering, "Crazy mothafucking cracker…" as he gave a wayward glance at the stove before walking over to turn off the range and abandon his sandwich.

Angel opened Bobby's bedroom door hesitantly, letting the light from the hall shine in. Bobby was sprawled out in bed, looking dead to the world. The last thing in the world Angel wanted to do was wake him up.

Bobby was like a hibernating bear. You had to have a damn good reason to make him get up, or be Ma.

But there'd been something about Jack… Something that Angel couldn't understand. But he knew Jack had a deep trust in Bobby, and maybe something was really wrong.

Angel walked over with a sigh and shook Bobby's arm, staring at his sleeping face.

"Go away…" Bobby muttered, not even opening his eyes.

"Bobby," Angel persisted. "Man, I—"

"Why's everyone wake me up…" Bobby murmured, still not opening his eyes. "Go 'way…"

"Jack's on the phone," Angel insisted.

Bobby didn't answer.

Angel shook his arm again. "Bobby, listen to me. He wants to talk to you."

"Tell him no…"

"I did. I think something's the matter."

Bobby stirred a little, yawning and opening his eyes. He stared at Angel unhappily. "I'm sure he just wants a ride. Tell him to fuck off."

"No, I mean something sounds wrong. He sounds really weird…"

Bobby yawned again. "He always sounds weird."

"No… Really. I think something's the matter."

Bobby moaned, stretching his arms over his head and sitting up a little. He gave Angel a look. But Angel had an earnest look on his face that made Bobby wake up a little bit.

"Seriously," Angel persisted. "He sounds upset about something."

Bobby muttered under his breath as he threw back the covers and slid out of bed. "This better be good. I'm fucking sick of him right now."

Angel shrugged, moving out of Bobby's way as the man walked past him and out of the room.

Bobby squinted at the light as he made his way barefoot to the kitchen. He picked up the phone and growled into it. "I'm sick of this, Jack. You hear me?" He grunted. "What're you upset about now, you fairy?"

There was a pause on the other end.

Bobby sighed. "Are you there?"

"Bobby," Jack breathed.

"This better be good."

"Bobby."

"That's me. What is it? I'm sleeping, man. I really… I'm sick of this. I'm tired, I'm hung over…"

"Something's wrong."

"Yeah something's wrong… I'm not in bed…" Bobby leaned against the counter, watching Angel go back to the stove. He tried to make out what was in the frying pan. He tried to listen to the other end of the line, but Jack's answer was delayed.

"Why… Why can't I hear you? Are you…"

Bobby frowned. "Whattaya mean you can't hear me?"

Angel looked up. "He told me that too," he said. "He said he could barely hear me."

"My heart," Jack said faintly.

"Huh?" Bobby rubbed his hand over his jaw. "Jack, gimme a break here. What are you doing? What about your heart?"

"Bobby…" Jack persisted fearfully.

Bobby picked up the panic in Jack's voice and started to become a little bit more concerned. Angel was right. Something was the matter. He frowned. "Jackie?" he said. "What is it? You okay?"

Jack breathed heavily into the phone for a moment and then said slowly, shakily. "I'm having a heart attack."

"I doubt it."

"I am….I don't know what to do."

"Jack." Bobby frowned. Something was wrong. Angel was right. There was something about Jack's voice. "What's going on, man?"

"I think I'm having a heart attack…" Jack whimpered. "My heart…" He breathed again. "My heart is attacking me. It's all… It's all I can hear, and…" His voice broke, and he trailed off.

Bobby wasn't sure what to say. Jack wasn't making any sense... "What'd you do?"

"I threw up," Jack said, his voice shaking. "And it's like… It's like everyone's under water with the sound. Except my heart. I think something is wrong, Bobby… Can you hear it?"

"Hear what? Are you at school?"

Jack sniffled. "Yes. Yes. And something is wrong."

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Can't you hear it? Please help me, Bobby."

"Help you how?"

"I can't stop it… My heart is really fast and…" Jack's voice became muffled. "I can't… What'd I do? What if it gets faster?"

Angel was giving Bobby a curious look. He'd been listening to the one side of the conversation and was starting to get worried. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"I don't know," Bobby answered. He spoke back into the phone. "Jack?"

"My heart… It's so fast," Jack answered with terror in his voice. "I…" He whimpered. "I…" There was silence. "Do you hear it?" He paused. "You have to hear it, Bobby. It's so loud."

Bobby took a deep breath. "Do you want me to come get you? I'll come get you now."

"I don't," Jack answered, voice quaking. "I don't want to." He paused and then whispered, "I'm really scared, Bobby. I need… to stop… shaking."

"What?" Bobby replied. "Alright. Look. I'll come get you, Jack. You're at school?"

"What….?"

"I said I'll come get you. Is that what you want?"

"You will?"

"Sure. Sure I will, man."

"Bobby…" he whimpered. "I don't know… I threw up… Yellow. Something very yellow."

"Go sit out front. I'll be there in like ten minutes, okay?" Bobby answered. "I just gotta throw some clothes on, and I'll come get you."

"But…"

"Jack. Go sit out front."

"Okay…"

"Okay, then. Be there soon. Bye." Bobby hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes.

"I can go get him," Angel offered. "You're not even awake."

"No, I can do it," Bobby said tiredly. "I just need clothes."

"What's wrong with him? He seemed really confused."

"I don't know…" Bobby admitted. "I think he's freaked out. But I don't know why… He sounds like he did when he used to have panic attacks. But he hasn't done that in a while… I mean, I haven't been home, but…"

Angel shook his head. "I don't think he's had any."

"It's this stupid sleep thing, I know it. I knew he'd crack. He needs to sleep, and it's freaking him out." Bobby shook his head. "Okay. I need some pants. Then I'll get him."

"He's not just trying to get a ride, is he?" Angel asked.

Bobby thought about what Jack had sounded like on the phone.

"No," he replied. "It's more than that."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

tbc…..


	7. Chapter 7

_**I'm overwhelmed at the response I've gotten for this story. It started as such a random idea, and I'm glad I've been able to continue it. Thank you for the reviews. They are so encouraging. **_

**Chapter 7**

Bobby felt nauseous on his drive over to Jack's school. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was that hung over, or whether it was because Jack had sounded so bizarre on the phone.

He also wasn't sure what he should expect. They'd been through a lot of things with Jack during the last few years. He was a stronger person than the little boy that first showed up at their door, but still rather vulnerable, both to the world in general and himself. He was older now, but still just fifteen, and still quite introverted. It was hard to ever know what to expect.

Jack wasn't like the other three Mercer boys, who were more rough and tough. While they were hardheaded, maybe seemingly dangerous, Jack appeared young and somewhat fragile, like his previous life had stolen his backbone and defenses. While Bobby was loud and aggressive, Jack was timid and quiet.

Bobby found him exhausting and impossible a lot of the time, but he'd also dedicated himself to protecting the kid any way he could. Being around when Jack first became a Mercer had in some way of broken Bobby down. For some reason he really felt for the kid. He'd always felt defensive of Angel and Jerry too, but they were more self-sufficient little brothers than Jack.

He waited at a red light, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He looked at the time and sighed. If Jack was creatively looking for a ride home, then Bobby was going to kick his ass. But he had a strong feeling that wasn't the case. Something else was going on.

Finally he rolled into the school's parking lot and pulled up to the front of the school. He didn't see Jack right away and took a deep breath. He hoped it wouldn't turn into a search. He'd told him to be outside… He wouldn't even know the first place to look inside.

That was when he noticed him, laying down on the wooden bench towards the left side of the school entrance, completely stationary.

Bobby put the car in park and pulled off his seatbelt. He pushed open the car door and slid out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Jack hadn't moved or noticed the car yet. His hands were covering his face.

Bobby stuck his hands into his jeans pockets and walked over, glancing around at how empty and quiet the outside of the school was. All that he could hear was the sound of the traffic from the road.

"Cracker Jack," he said as he got closer. "Get up. I'm here."

Jack didn't move, his hands remaining over his face.

Bobby frowned and reached the bench. He took Jack's wrist and moved his hand away from his face, noticing how cold Jack's hand was. Perhaps he was sick after all. Jack stared up at him, mouth opening like he wanted to say something. Then he shut it again and just took a deep, tremulous breath.

"What's going on?" Bobby persisted. "You sick?"

"Bobby," Jack said unsteadily. "The whole…" His face scrunched up. "Something is wrong."

Bobby frowned, letting go of Jack's wrist. He felt Jack's forehead. He looked extremely flushed. "You feel sick, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed. He squeezed his eyes shut. "My heart…"

"Alright, get up. This whole game is over. Let's go home and sleep, huh?" He stood there, gesturing at him to get up. "C'mon, Jack, let's go."

"I can't…" Jack whispered.

"Why not? C'mon. Let's go."

"I can't…" Jack persisted. "I can't move anymore…" He kept his eyes shut.

"What?" Bobby frowned at him. "Man, what's the problem? You that tired?"

"No…" Jack moaned. His hand slipped back over his face again.

"Look, let's just go home," Bobby persisted. "That's what I came for."

Jack didn't answer.

Bobby felt himself get a little frustrated. He wasn't sure what was wrong with Jack, but he knew it could be better figured out when they were home. He figured the exhaustion had simply caught up with him.

He took a seat at the edge of the bench by Jack's head and looked down at his face. "What hurts?"

"The world," Jack breathed.

"Wanna go home and sleep?"

"I can't… I can't sleep." Jack swallowed. "Bobby… My heart. My heart is so fast." His voice shook again.

Bobby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You're overtired. I knew something was going to happen once it all caught up with you. People are supposed to sleep."

"Bobby… Can you hear it?" Jack asked.

"Hear what?" Bobby reached down and pulled his hand down again. "Stop covering your face."

"Can you hear it pounding? It's…" Jack stared straight up, his eyes an icy blue. "It's so loud. And fast. Really, really fast."

"Your heart, Jack?" Bobby persisted. "You nervous?"

Jack nodded.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. Let's go home."

"I think…" Jack began. His face began to scrunch up again, like he was going to cry.

"What?" Bobby asked in exasperation. "You think what?"

Jack's eyes shined with tears. "I took too many," he breathed.

"Took too many?" Bobby asked. He paused. "Are you talking about those pills? You bought more?"

Jack didn't answer. A couple tears slid down from his eyes.

"Jack," Bobby persisted, turning in his seat to face him. "Sit up." He took Jack by the shoulders, urging him.

"No…" Jack objected

Bobby stood up and grabbed the front of Jack's shirt, pulling him up forcefully to sit up. Jack stiffened, recoiling from the touch like he thought Bobby was angry.

"Stop," Bobby insisted, pulling Jack's legs off the bench to turn him and have him sit properly. "I'm not going to sit here all day with you. What do you mean you took too many? We need to go home."

Jack shivered a bit. "I don't know."

Bobby frowned. Jack seemed confused. He was definitely not himself. He started to worry. Was this all just from exhaustion or what? Of course not sleeping would cause you to lose your focus, but Jack looked like he was staring right through him. It was just caffeine though, right?

"Listen, are you tired or is it something else?" Bobby crouched down and rested his hands on Jack's knees.

Jack immediately pushed his hands away, shaking his head and making a face. His cheeks were wet from the few tears that had escaped his watery eyes. "I can't do that anymore."

"Can't do what anymore?"

"Stop." Jack pushed him away, hunching his shoulders with a deep frown on his face.

"I'm not _doing _anything," Bobby replied.

Jack didn't answer, tapping his fingers nervously against the bench. He started breathing deeply, in and out, a perplexed look on his face. Bobby was a bit at a loss. He didn't know whether Jack was exhausted, sick, having a panic attack, or what. He wished he could call Evelyn, or that Evelyn had come to pick him up.

"How many did you take, Jack?" Bobby asked. "You bought more?"

Jack shrugged, starting to look worried. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"No, look at me. How many? Like, one? Two? Is that what you think is making you not feel well?" He paused. "Jack. I mean it. Look at me. Open your eyes."

"NO. The cars are moving."

Bobby glanced behind himself, at the parking lot. It was dead still. He looked back at Jack and frowned, starting to get a bit worried. Jack still had his eyes squeezed shut and was making a humming noise, his hand clutching his chest.

"You think you took too many?" Bobby asked. "Did you go to the nurse?"

Jack shook his head.

"Fucking idiot." Bobby looked around and spotted Jack's backpack under the bench. He grabbed it and sat down again next to Jack, unzipping it and fishing around. He found the new caffeine pill bottle and began to read the back again. He skimmed through the same information that he'd read before. Keep out of reach of children. One no more than every three hours… Blah, blah…

Then he suddenly felt himself go cold.

In case of overdose, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away.

Overdose?

Poison?

"Jack…" Bobby began with a more forceful tone. "Seriously, man. How many of these things did you take?"

"I don't… I don't know."

"Estimate. You came to school, bought them, and—"

"What day is it?"

"Who cares what day it is? How many of these did you take? I need to figure it out, man."

"Bobby… I think… I might have fallen asleep before…" Jack opened his eyes and frowned. "Do you think… Will it count against me…?"

"Doesn't matter. The whole thing is over," Bobby replied. "You fucking moron. It's over."

Jack looked upset. "No, I'm halfway—"

"You're halfway to me killing you, Jack. Now answer my question. How many did you take?"

Jack shrugged. "A few. I… It wasn't working."

"You realize it _is _possible to take too many, right?"

"No. You can't," Jack replied. "It's… It's just my heart…"

"Get up." Bobby got to his feet. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Jack's eyes widened. "What? Why? No."

"Jack, I don't know what to do with you. Something is wrong, and if it's these pills fucking you up, then we have to find out why. You won't—"

"No. Forget it." Jack forced himself to his feet as well, wobbling a little bit, and then took his bag back, fumbling with it and trying to zipper it again. He couldn't get it and after a few seconds, frustrated, he threw it over his shoulder anyway. "No, never mind."

"Never mind?"

Jack started to slowly walk towards the school, pausing a bit after a few steps and looking a little indecisive.

"You're going back to class?" Bobby asked cynically. "Listen, man, obviously something is wrong. Humor me here and let's go."

"No."

"I've had enough. Let's go. I'm hung over, and I just need to figure out what's wrong with you, alright?" Bobby rubbed at the stubble on his jaw, watching Jack stand there, his book bag hanging half open.

He walked over and took Jack's arm, troubled again by how cold Jack's skin felt. It was eerie. "C'mon, Cracker Jack. Enough is enough."

"I trusted you," Jack spat out, eyes narrowed.

"Trusted me to what? What was I supposed to do when I got here?"

"I trusted you, Bobby," Jack persisted.

Bobby frowned. Jack wasn't even looking directly at him. He pulled his arm, guiding him away from the school. "Let's go."

They took about two steps when Jack suddenly bent over and threw up. Bobby made a disgusted face as he stepped away and just shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Jack. Warning, please?"

Jack remained hunched over, taking his deep panicky breaths again. Bobby realized that he was a bit freaked out about what to do. Maybe this was pretty serious. He watched Jack wipe off his month, still breathing that way.

"Okay, let's go, Jack," Bobby persisted, a little nervously. "Now." He took Jack's arm again.

Jack shook his arm away. "Let go. I can go. I can do it."

Bobby just rolled his eyes. "So are you coming now?"

Jack walked with him, hand clutching his chest again. "Yeah. Home?"

"Sure, home," Bobby lied, eyeing him. He realized he was lying, because he was not taking him home without getting him checked out first, but he didn't know what else to say.

Ma would have some graceful way to convince Jack to grudgingly go, but other than lying, Bobby could only think of dragging the kid kicking and screaming to get him to the hospital. Jack never liked hospitals. He'd never had the understanding that going could be for check-ups or getting better. He only associated hospitals with being uncomfortable or having experienced something bad.

"Does your chest hurt?"

"It's just fast…" Jack persisted. "It's… I'm scared of it. It got so fast."

"Fine. Get in the car." Bobby stood on the driver's side as he watched Jack walk to the other side. Jack fumbled with the car handle for a moment, so that Bobby thought that he might have had it locked. So he got into the car and reached over to unlock it, but realized it wasn't locked at all.

Frowning, he opened the door from the inside and pushed it out.

"What is the matter with you, boy?" Bobby muttered as Jack got into the car, dumping his bag on the floor. He turned the key in the ignition and started out of the school.

Bobby expected Jack to notice and object when Bobby pulled out of the school and didn't turn down the street the right way to head home. But Jack didn't. He didn't do anything he typically did in the car, like mess with the radio or pull out cigarettes. Instead, he leaned forward and put his head down between his knees.

"Jack…" Bobby began stiffly. "You throw up in my car, and no one's gonna be happy, understand?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled, not moving.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Just too much moving."

"It's a car, it has to move."

"Not the car," Jack muttered.

"Dude, why do you do this kind of stuff to yourself?" Bobby replied, frowning at him before looking back at the road. A moment later though, when Jack had been just so quiet, he reached over and patted him on the back. "You okay, Jackie-boy?"

"I think something is wrong…" Jack responded in a low voice.

"Yeah…" Bobby frowned. "Man, how man you take? For real. I'm not mad." Actually Bobby was furious. But he was more worried than furious, so right now he was acting on that. He didn't know what the effects were if it was from the caffeine pills. He had no idea. But when the bottle said to contact poison control, it scared him.

In high school, he remembered when a close friend overdosed on sleeping pills and almost died. Sleeping versus caffeine pills, it was ironic, but dangerous nonetheless and he wasn't going to take any chances. If there was a chance of it having a similar effect, than there was no way in hell he was just taking Jack home.

Jack never answered. He was quiet the whole ride there. It was only about ten minutes, but as they got closer, Bobby got more anxious. He wasn't really sure what to do. He figured this was the best he could though, and parked in the emergency room parking lot.

"Jack." He said. "Man, ready? Come on."

Jack lifted his head and leaned back, his head tilted to stare at the car ceiling. "This is the weirdest high," he said.

"Fucking idiot," Bobby muttered again. He pushed his car door open. "Out of the car, Jack."

It was then Jack registered where they were. His mouth dropped open and then he shook his head. "No, Bobby. No, no, no."

"Yes, yes, yes," Bobby replied. "Get out of the car."

"No." Jack shook his head again. He reached up to put his hand over his chest again. "No. I trusted you. You said—"

"Jack." Bobby leaned over in his seat. "Jackie, look. Something is the matter. We're going to fix it."

Jack just shook his head.

"Jack," Bobby persisted. He reached over and grasped Jack's chin in his hand, turning his head towards him. "You listening? Get out of the car. I can't take you home without knowing you're okay."

"What will they do?" Jack asked shakily. "They can't fix it."

"They will," Bobby replied. It was a hospital. He figured they had to know how to do something. He'd never heard of caffeine reactions, but it had to be that. It had to be that, or the fact he hadn't slept in however long.

"No…" Jack whimpered, pushing Bobby's hand off of his face.

"Jack. I don't have the patience for this. My head is pounding. I feel nauseous. I don't know what's wrong with you. I can call Ma and she'll come here and drag you in herself, you know. You want me to do that and make her come out of work?"

Jack shook his head, breathing heavily.

"Then come on. You're more mature than this, Jack." Bobby gave him a look. "Understand?"

"Don't tell her."

"Don't tell who? Ma?"

Jack nodded, bowing his head down.

"Well… We'll see…" Bobby replied gently, knowing there was no way in hell he wasn't calling her the moment he had the chance. It was then he felt kind of privileged that Jack had called him to help. He actually did trust him. Too bad he didn't know what to do.

"Come on." He looked at him. "Are you going to throw up again?"

"No."

"Get out of the car. Jesus. Will you ever change?" Bobby slid out his side and then leaned down to stick his head into the car. "Get out, or I'm coming around to get you. You want me to carry you in like baby?"

Jack sighed and got out of the car, struggling a bit with the door handle again. He walked over to join Bobby, staring at the pavement. Nothing had changed since that class... He still felt just as terrible and freaked out. Seeing Bobby made him feel a little better, but it hadn't made his heart attack go away. He wanted to just sleep now.

"Okay?" Bobby asked. Jack just stood there, looking really scared, of either the hospital, or his state, or something. Bobby sighed and reached out to tousle his hair. "Huh, Cracker Jack?"

"No…"

"Okay, well let's go fix it," Bobby replied, nudging him. He started to walk and reluctantly Jack followed.

"Bobbbbbbby," Jack began, drawing out the syllables, dragging his feet. The world was still wobbling, but he wasn't sure he could trust himself to describe it.

"Yeah."

"You're mad… at me… for all this?"

"Not right now," Bobby answered. "No one's mad right now. Let's figure you out first."

"It's my heart. And the wobbling."

"Wobbling?"

"Echo…. Freak… Freakish… Ishly…"

Bobby glanced at him with a frown. "We'll figure it out." He felt his keys and wallet in his pocket and squinted up at the ER sign. "Listen, Jack… You did the right thing. You call me any time something happens, right?"

"Okay."

"I mean it. I won't be mad. Just call me like you did."

Jack nodded, frowning at the way the hospital sign was spinning. "It's spinning."

"What's spinning?"

"The sign."

Bobby looked around, trying to find a sign that was doing anything. There was nothing. He saw a stop sign, a parking lot sign, and the hospital signs. All stationary. "Uh, okay, Jack."

"It's not?"

"No."

"What's the matter with me? I feel like…" Jack made a face. "Something is wrong." He stopped again, staring at the pavement. It was swimming, like that classroom had. He felt his heart pounding so hard.

Bobby took his arm. "Alright, Jack. Keep walking."

Jack walked in a daze with him up to the ER doors and into the building. Bobby pushed him down gently into one of the plastic waiting chairs, looking around and thanking God that it wasn't very crowded. He approached the desk, digging his hands into his pockets again.

"Can I help you," said an older black woman dryly from the desk as she tapped on a computer.

"Uh…" Bobby began uncertainly. "Look, I've got this kid with me." He indicated Jack behind him. Jack had put his head between his knees again. "It's a weird situation, really. He, uh, kinda hasn't slept in a few days… And I think he might have… Can you overdose on caffeine pills?"

"Yes, sir, you can," the woman replied, frowning as he looked past him at Jack in the waiting area. She pushed a form towards him. "Can you fill this out, and I'll have him checked out right away."

"Yeah." Bobby nodded. It was a simple form. Name, address, a brief history.

"How old is he?"

"Fifteen."

"Relation?"

"Brother."

"Got insurance?" she asked.

Bobby nodded, pulling out his wallet. "Yeah. Yeah, I have an old card of mine. Uh, he's on this… Not sure if the numbers the same or different, or… This might be expired…"

"He been here before?"

"Actually, yeah…" Bobby answered. "You can probably just look it up. Mercer. That's the last name. M-e-r…"

"Got it. First name?"

"Jack."

"Year of birth?"

"Uh…" Bobby searched his mind. "84?"

"Current address is…" She paused and read off the screen.

"Yeah. Yeah that's it."

"Okay. Then if you can just fill out the front page of that form." She handed him a pen.

He nodded, quickly filling in the information as she typed on the computer. Within a couple minutes he was done and pushed the form back towards her.

"Okay, thanks," she said. "I'll call you in just a few minutes."

Bobby nodded. "Thanks." He pushed his wallet back into his pocket and walked back over to Jack, sliding into the seat behind. "Alright, Bozo. Gonna just be a few minutes."

"I really don't feel well, Bobby…" Jack murmured, staying down.

"Then we're in the right place. You gonna be sick again?"

"I don't know…" Jack admitted. His voice was shaky and Bobby noticed that he looked like he was trembling a little.

"Hey…" Bobby put a hand on his back. "Hey, Jackie. It's gonna be fine. Don't be scared. I just wanna make sure that you're not sick and we'll go home. You okay?"

"No," Jack moaned. "No…. Everything keeps moving… The whole thing is swimming…"

Bobby swallowed, feeling Jack's heaving breaths under his hand. "I need to call Ma too. Sit here. There's a pay phone." He started to get up.

Jack lifted his head and grabbed his arm. "Don't."

"Jack, I have to tell her," Bobby objected as Jack curled his fingers around his shirt. "Jack, c'mon, man…"

"Don't leave me," Jack objected, grasping Bobby's shirt in desperation. "Don't leave, please. Please don't."

"Okay…" Bobby sank back into his chair, uncertain. "Okay…" Jack's hand remained closed around his t-shirt. It was weird, seeing Jack like this. Jack often had the tendency to be clingy, but not so desperate. "I'll call her after."

"After what?" Jack whispered.

"Dunno," Bobby admitted. "Just soon." He frowned as Jack hooked his arm through his, holding on distraughtly. "Jack… You have to calm down."

"Sorry," Jack murmured. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just calm down… Alright?"

Jack shook his head.

Bobby didn't reply, just letting Jack hold onto him, wondering how he was going to explain this to Evelyn. It wasn't his fault though. He hadn't done anything to him. But he still didn't really know how to explain it. He had to call her. He had to call Angel too, who would probably be surprised they weren't home soon.

In a few minutes, he heard their name. Mercer. He looked up and a blonde nurse was standing there with a clipboard. He was a little concerned at how quickly they'd been called, and wondered if it was serious. But how would they know already that it was serious before seeing him? He elbowed Jack and pulled him up.

Jack just took deep breaths as they approached the nurse. There was a male orderly standing beside her.

"Do you mind if I talk to you," he asked, looking at Bobby as they walked towards the examination area, "while Ms. Greer here talks to Jack?"

"Uh, no, that's fine," Bobby answered. Jack gave him an alarmed look but Bobby waved him on. "I'll be there in a minute, Jackie," he assured. "Gonna be ten feet a way."

Jack looked like he was going to object, but Bobby ignored it, turning back to the man that had addressed him as the nurse led Jack into a small examination room.

"I just wanted to get a quick background from you while Ms. Greer gets his vitals and story," the man began, holding a small pad of paper and a pen. "Now, the registration desk said that you mentioned a possible overdose?"

Bobby rubbed at his jaw. "Uh, yeah. Like I told her… He hasn't slept in a while. And, caffeine pills. I think he took a lot of caffeine pills."

"How long has he not slept?"

Bobby took a deep breath and smirked. "This is going to sound crazy… I mean… Well, about seventy hours I think. More now."

The man raised his eyebrows, jotting it down and then just looking up to stare. "Seventy? Why would that be? Does he suffer from insomnia… sleep apnea… or—"

"Teenage rebellion," Bobby replied. "Basically."

The man stared at him, confused.

"It's stupid…. I mean…." Bobby continued, "He started with the caffeine pills, and… I think today he kind of overdid it. You can overdose on caffeine?"

"Yes. Yes, you can," the man answered. "Caffeine can be fatal in the right dosage, like any other chemical or drug."

"Fatal?"

The man shook his head, noticing his agitation. "Sir, I think you'll be fine today. Judging by his abilities on first observation, I would say he's no where near the fatal dosage," the man assured. "But it can be very harmful nonetheless. Can you describe any symptoms to me?"

"Uh… He said his heart was beating really fast…. He felt really cold… He was kind of paranoid and nervous, but… But he's always like that… Not this bad, but sometimes…" Bobby glanced away from the man and towards the room. He thought about the way Jack had clung to him. "In fact… I mean, I'd like to answer all your questions, but I don't want to leave him alone too long…"

"I'm sure he's fine with Nurse Greer," the man answered as he scribbled some notes. "You mentioned paranoia. Has—"

"No, really. I'd rather be with him for now. He was…" Bobby tilted his head to try to view the room. He looked back at the orderly. "See, he's… He's got some emotional problems that I just… I don't want him…"

"What kind of emotional problems?" The man's pen hovered above the pad of paper.

"Uh…" Bobby didn't know how to answer. "Can I just…"

"I'm sure he's fine," the man answered. "Now is caffeine the only pill he's been taking? Can you think of any other drugs or substances that he might have taken?"

Bobby shook his head. "No… I mean, I don't think so… He… I doubt it. Caffeine. Lots of caffeine. And no sleep."

The man nodded. "Well, we'll run a blood test to be sure… If there's anything that might be causing reactions, it's vital we know… You said you're his brother?"

"Yeah."

"Is there any family history of blood pressure, heart disease, of—"

"He's not…" Bobby interrupted and then paused. "None of us are blood. I mean… He's adopted."

"Okay."

"So I don't know."

The man nodded.

"So what…" Bobby began, suddenly feeling terrible. Like there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even answer these questions correctly. He clenched his fists nervously. "What happens? When you take that much caffeine?"

"Do you have any idea how much he took?"

Bobby frowned and then shook his head. "No. I don't. I mean, a few pills. More than a few. For the past… I don't know. Day or so… I don't know how many he took most recently…"

"Well, the most common side effects are some of the ones you already listed him as having… The coldness… The fast pulse. Paranoia. Disorientation. Often dehydration. Caffeine's a big diuretic… Any nervousness, heightened irritability… It can be quite serious."

Bobby took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. "Okay. Okay, so what now?"

"Well, we can see how Nurse Greer is coming along…" the man answered. "I'll be in there in just a couple minutes. You go ahead. We might have a few more questions."

Bobby nodded, watching the man walk away. He walked towards the small room and found Jack up on the exam table, a blood pressure cuff strapped to his arm as the nurse took his pulse and blood pressure. Jack looked extremely pale, staring off with the same look on his face.

The nurse looked up at Bobby's entrance and smiled. "See, Jack? I told you he'd be back in a few minutes."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Bobby agreed. "He okay?"

She unstrapped the cuff and made a few notes on a chart. "Well… Jack, your pulse is quite high for a sitting pulse rate."

Jack didn't answer. He didn't move.

She frowned and then simply stepped towards Bobby, addressing him. "High pulse… Likewise for his blood pressure… Alarmingly high. We've already discussed a few of his symptoms, and he's not very verbal, either out of choice or disorientation… It seems likely that simply the amount of caffeine is responsible… Can you estimate how many of the pills he took?"

Bobby shook his head. Then he turned to Jack. "Jack, just how many?" he asked, looking at the kid again.

Jack said nothing, staring at the floor.

The nurse looked at Bobby. "I'm going to talk to the doctor as he comes in to examine him. But since it's been only just about an hour since he ingested most of it, or so he seems to say, we might do a gastric lavage to just make sure we—"

"A what?" Bobby asked.

She made a few more notes. "A stomach pump. It's typically procedure for any kind of overdoes of a drug or medication. Complications are uncommon, so I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. But a caffeine overdose can be dangerous, so it's best we get anything out that we can, and we'll need to monitor him for a little while."

"How long?"

"His breathing, his heart rate… It's irregular… It's fast," she persisted. "Very fast. We…" She paused and watched Jack bend forward to place his head between his knees again. "He's experiencing most of the signs of a caffeine overdose. In fact, he's fairly lucky, because some will lose complete control of their motor skills. His motor skills and reflexes are affected, but not nearly as severely as some others we've seen."

Bobby felt sick. "I didn't even know you could overdose on caffeine… I mean, I figured a lot wasn't good for you, but…"

"The combination of no sleep," she persisted. "I mean, caffeine and no sleep typically goes hand in hand. But with this level of sleep deprivation… I mean, that is a problem in itself… It's dangerous. It's good you brought him. The excess in his stomach will still be absorbed in the next hour, so it's important he handle it now."

Bobby nodded.

"The sleep deprivation is like being drunk," she extremely. "You start to lose control of your senses, your ability to concentrate, control your emotions… Combine that with high levels of caffeine, and… It's not good." She paused. "I'm going to go talk to Dr. Glovan," she persisted. "I'll be back in just a minute."

Bobby watched her leave and then turned to Jack, who was still in the same head down position. "Jack," he said. "I really need to call Ma… I'll be back in a few minutes, alright?"

Jack didn't say anything, just took a deep breath, brow furrowing. He seemed to be frowning intensely at the floor.

"Jack…" Bobby began slowly, "…don't do anything while I'm gone. I'll be just a minute." Jack didn't look like he was going to do anything. He looked like he was closing in on himself, into his shell. Bobby wasn't sure he wanted to leave him, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he could hear or see any more of this rationally without calling Evelyn.

He reached into his pocket and felt a bunch of coins. Giving Jack one more look, he headed out of the small room and looked around for a phone.

He saw the same nurse talking to a doctor a few feet away and approached them.

"Excuse me… I'll be right back… Is there a phone, or…"

She nodded. "Right down that hall…" She pointed behind them.

"Thanks."

Bobby walked down the hall, pulling the coins out of his pocket to find some quarters. In his mind he rehearsed Evelyn's work number, which he hadn't called in a while. It was written right above the phone at home. He rarely had to call it by memory. In fact, he hoped it was the same.

He reached the phone and picked up the receiver, dropping a quarter into the slot. Slowly he dialed.

He didn't recognize the voice that answered at first and hesitated. "Uh, hello…" he said. "Is Evelyn Mercer there…?"

"Sure. Who's this?"

"Bobby."

"Oh, hi, Bobby," the voice replied somewhat excitedly. "It's Mrs. Reglo. I haven't seen you in a long time, how are you?"

"Good, good…" he answered, picturing a tiny fiery woman in her forties that he indeed hadn't seen in a few years. "I'm good."

"Okay, let me get Evelyn. One second."

Bobby turned and leaned against the phone, chewing on a fingernail anxiously as he watched the buzz of the hospital around him. He wasn't exactly sure how to approach the subject.

Evelyn answered just a minute later. "Bobby?"

"Hey, Ma…" Bobby greeted slowly.

"What's going on?" she asked, sounding upbeat. "Did Angel come home this morning?"

"Uh, yeah. He's home… I… Uh…" He trailed off.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You calling to talk, or is this something else?"

"Something else," he admitted. "It's Jack."

"What's wrong?" she sighed.

He paused. "Now, I don't want you to panic or anything, but I had to take Jack to the hospital, and I called you as soon as I could. We've been here maybe fifteen minutes, and—"

"What happened, Bobby?"

" It's those fucking pills. I think he took too many, and with no sleep… I'm not sure exactly. I…"

"Wasn't he at school?"

"He called me from school," Bobby explained. "He was… I don't know whether you'd call it a panic attack, or… I don't know. I knew something was wrong though… He was freaking out, Ma… So I went to pick him up…"

"What was wrong that you took him to the hospital? You can tell me when I get there. I just—"

"He'll be fine," Bobby insisted, more for himself than for her. "It's just the fucking caffeine. And no sleep. He… I didn't know you could take too much caffeine…"

"I'll leave right now, Bobby."

"Okay," Bobby agreed. And then before he could stop himself, he added, "Hurry, Ma."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Evelyn arrived, she found Bobby sitting in the ER waiting room, hunched forward with his head in his hands. She walked over briskly and touched his shoulder.

"Bobby."

Bobby straightened and looked up at her. "They said they were going to pump his stomach. I…"

"Where is he?"

"They wouldn't let me come. They said they'd come get me in about twenty minutes…" Bobby shook his head. "He's… Ma, he's a fucking idiot."

"He's not an idiot," Evelyn answered, moving to sit in the chair beside him. "Just not so bright sometimes…" She rested her hand on Bobby's knee, squeezing. "What else did they say?"

"All the symptoms…" He shook his head. "It's all from the effects of too much caffeine and sleep deprivation. They've seen it before, it's… He was weird, Ma. Really out of it. I mean, _really _out of it."

"Well, then you did the right thing, Bobby. Bringing him here."

"They said caffeine can be lethal. How's that lethal? I mean, coffee?"

"Extreme amounts of anything," she answered, taking a deep breath. "But there's no way he had that much. He couldn't have had a whole bottle." She shook her head. "This should have been stopped from the beginning. He's so hard-headed…"

"Fucking idiot…" Bobby muttered. "Ma, I'm going to kill him. As soon as we get him home, I'm going to kill him."

"You won't," she replied. "We'll get through this. Just like anything else."

"It's so stupid. All this because of wanting to stay awake. I mean, how much more stupid can you get?"

Evelyn squeezed his knee again. "I'm glad he called you, Bobby…"

Bobby sighed, leaning his head back. "Me too."

ooooooooooooooooooo

TBC!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Jack lost track of time.

It was one of those experiences where he suddenly blinked and realized that he wasn't where he last remembered. And he couldn't really connect what he remembered last with what was currently going on.

It always struck a chord of fear within him as soon as he realized it, or became conscious of where he was. There was a second of confusion, and then more fear, in a completely overbearing, overwhelming spurt.

He sat there, taking in the fact that he was obviously in a hospital room, in a hospital bed, and not completely comprehending why. He kind of realized what had happened, especially as the day flashed back at him like a bag of bricks hitting him in the gut. He still felt extremely bizarre, but was now more disturbed that his memory after Bobby picking him up at school was a complete whirlwind.

He was slightly angry at Bobby, mostly because he felt abandoned and because they'd come here instead of going home. He had no idea where Bobby was now that he was in this room. The reason he called Bobby was because he trusted him. He trusted him to come get him and somehow make it better. Bobby always had answers for everything. And if he couldn't make it better, he would at least get him home.

He was no where near home now.

He moved his hand up to his face and felt something tugging. With a frown, he looked down at his arm and noticed the IV. His eyes trailed the tube, up to the IV bag and he swallowed, wondering what it was that they were dripping into him and how long he'd been in this bed.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember the day. He really couldn't. There was school, and then there was a flash of events that didn't seem like he had actually experienced first hand.

All he knew for certain was that this had not been the plan. If he couldn't remember, that might mean he'd been asleep. And if he'd been asleep, it meant everyone had proven him right and he had failed…

Seventy hours and then this?

Confused and angry, Jack sat up a little in bed and looked around the room. He heard the normal sounds of the hospital outside and felt sick. He hated hospitals. He hated being in hospitals and having anything to do with them. He hated that Bobby had brought him here. And even more, that no one was with him now.

He ripped the tape off of his arm that was holding down the IV tubes in place and stared at the IV catheter.

A moment later he yanked it out as well.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

The same nurse came out to talk to Bobby and Evelyn after what seemed like an eternity. She had a smile on her face as she approached and extended her hand to Evelyn when she was in front of them.

"I'm Michelle Greer," she introduced herself as she shook her hand briefly. "Are you of relation to Jack as well?"

Evelyn nodded. "I'm Evelyn Mercer. I'm his legal guardian."

Nurse Greer nodded and took a seat beside her, sitting on the edge and angling herself so she could see both of him. "Well, you'll be glad to hear that he's going to be absolutely fine. We've set him up in a temporary room just so we can monitor his vitals for a little bit and give him some fluids, so I'll take you in to see him as soon as we chat for a bit."

"I'm sorry about all of this, and I feel terrible," Evelyn admitted. "Something so foolish causing all of this, you know?" She sighed. "Teenagers are very stubborn."

"We're rather impressed with how long he's been awake," the nurse agreed. "Possibly one of the worst things you can do to your body, but rather impressive that he had that stamina and will-power."

"He's very stubborn," Evelyn replied with a sigh. "But I don't really think impressed is a word I'll use to discuss this with him."

"No, I would doubt it," Nurse Greer agreed with a frown. "Now, I'm sure Bobby has made you aware of the symptoms that Jack was experiencing that landed them here today… The combination of caffeine and the lack of sleep is a dangerous concoction… In fact, he's rather lucky, and it's good he didn't take more of the pills than he did."

Evelyn felt guilty listening to the nurse speak. She wasn't sure what to do. Jack was a struggle, just like all of her boys were. One was so different from the other, and put her in situations she could never imagine.

She somehow felt immensely responsible for what had happened today, like she should have put her foot down, should have been more stern. But she knew as well as anyone that Jack didn't respond well to that, and likely would have tried to do the same thing regardless.

She'd already tried to convince him to stop in the best way she could without causing him to directly rebel. But it hadn't worked.

"We did a couple things," Nurse Greer persisted, watching their faces as she explained. "And he's going to be completely back to normal after some good rest and a few days of taking it easy… We pumped his stomach… Simply because most of the caffeine had been ingested rather recently, and that's the best way to get any poison of his system."

Evelyn nodded. "Can there be complications to that? How did he…"

"There can be," she admitted. "But he was absolutely fine. In fact, I don't really know if he knew what was going on. He's been a little out of it, both from the reaction to the caffeine, and because we did give him an injection to calm him down. He at times appeared to be quite nervous… Panicky. And considering all the variables that could be affecting his emotional state, it was better to calm him down."

"Of course," Evelyn agreed, hands folded in her lap tightly.

"Right now, we have him on an IV drip," she persisted. "It's nothing but fluids. He was very dehydrated, and that we can fix right away. Over the next couple hours we just need to monitor his vitals, standard procedure."

"Good," Evelyn answered.

Bobby looked at her and at her hands. He could see the whites of her knuckles and knew that she was a lot more nervous then she let on. Evelyn was extremely good at pretending. That was why she always had control.

"We also…" Nurse Greer began slowly, "…We also ran a blood test to check for anything else, just to make sure we weren't dealing with any more serious complications. And I do want to disclose to you that we did find trace amounts of methylphenidate and marijuana…. Trace amounts, but still there… And in the case of methylphenidates, most time it just stays in your system a couple days, so—"

"What is that?" Bobby asked. "I've never heard of that."

"Most commonly ritalin, which I'm sure you've heard of. I didn't see you mention it as a drug prescribed to him so—"

"It's not," Evelyn answered stiffly.

"It's one of the more common traces we find when we run tests on kids his age," Nurse Greer said. "Not that it's by any means an excuse, but it's becoming shockingly easy for kids to get a hold of it… Basically, any classroom."

"Isn't that for ADD?" Bobby asked.

"ADHD," she corrected. "Yes. And similar to caffeine, actually, it can cause extreme insomnia and nervousness. So possibly it had something to do with today, but I think the Ritalin was not as recent. With the amount, I'm really more inclined to blame the caffeine. "

"Blame Jack," Bobby answered. "It's more him than the caffeine."

"Bobby," Evelyn objected.

"No seriously. He's a fucking idiot." Bobby looked at the nurse. "I'm sorry, excuse my language. I'm just a little annoyed."

"I understand," she answered. "And I don't want to bore you all with the minute details, because it's not a very complicated case, and I'm sure you're anxious to see him. So I am more than happy to answer any questions you might have, or I can take you to see him."

"Thank you," Evelyn replied. "That would be great."

"Okay, so just follow me then."

They got up and allowed her to lead them down the hall, past where Bobby had checked in. They turned down another hall and walked down several doors. In a couple of minutes, she stopped in front of a room and was about to walk in when suddenly she frowned.

"Well, that's weird…" she began slowly.

"What?" Evelyn asked, giving her a quizzical look.

Nurse Greer took the chart off the door and stared at it. "This is his room, it's just…"

Bobby peered around her and saw the empty bed. "Where is he?"

"Good question," she answered, putting the chart back. "If you'll excuse me, I'm just going to check with the nurse doing rounds and make sure they didn't move him. Sometimes, you know, for space, we do have to move patients."

"But his chart is still here," Evelyn pointed out.

She looked flustered. "Yes, I know…. I… I'll be back in just a minute. I'm sorry."

Evelyn took a deep breath as she watched the young woman leave. She looked at Bobby, who was now leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"Oh, Bobby," she began. "What else could possibly happen today?"

He made a face and shrugged. "The world could end." His head was pounding, an evil reminder of his hangover. "Do you want me to go look for him now, or should we wait for her to come back?"

"Look for him, Bobby?" Evelyn answered. "She'll be able to tell us in just a minute. Be patient."

"She'll magically know where he's hiding?" Bobby pushed off the wall and walked into the doorway of the empty room, peering in again just to make sure. He looked around the corner and then walked towards the bathroom to look inside that small space as well.

"Hiding?" Evelyn began. "You really think…"

"It's Jack."

"But honey, after what just happened? They gave him something to relax him, they pumped his stomach, he's on an IV and isn't exactly—"

"It's Jack," Bobby repeated as he approached her side again. "He's probably waiting at my car."

"Oh, Bobby…" Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"You're right," Bobby conceded. "He probably wouldn't make it that far. Least not dragging the IV with him…" He glance back into the room and squinted at the IV bag and the tube rambling down to the floor. "Well, that's smart…" he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." Bobby didn't really want to explain to Evelyn what his suspicions were. At the same time, he wasn't sure what he was protecting her from. She would find out, maybe in just a few minutes, and besides, she would probably handle it better than he would.

"Bobby, do you really think…"

"Ma…" Bobby persisted. "It's Jack…"

Evelyn shook her head. "I don't know what to do with that boy sometimes… Really, Bobby."

"Oh, Ma, he's good," Bobby replied, hating the worry on his mother's face. He knew she used to have that same look whenever he did something stupid too. And he did a lot of stupid things.

"He's a puzzle," she answered. "A very complicated puzzle."

"But you knew that," he answered. "What kinda project is fun without it being complicated?"

"He is not a 'project', Bobby. How many years and you still have to do that?"

"Okay," he answered with a shrug. "You called him a puzzle."

She gave him a look.

Bobby fidgeted and knew this was no time to be even remotely joking. But he didn't know what to do. "I'll go up and down the hall, see if I see him. I'm surprised you don't believe me that he might've just left."

"It's not that I don't believe you, Bobby… It's that I don't want to believe you," she answered. "I'm sick with worry over it."

"I'll get him."

"Bobby…"

"I will."

"You don't even know—"

"I can figure it out. He's probably right around here."

She looked undecided.

"You wait here and see what they say," Bobby insisted. "I just want to see if he's somewhere on this floor."

"Come back within ten minutes though, Bobby. I mean it."

"I will," he promised.

Evelyn nodded.

Bobby walked away from her, down the hall in the other direction. In the back of his mind was the thought of the conversation he'd meant to have with her today. About Jack and his affinity for lighters….

It would be a terrible idea now to bring that up. Both for Ma and Jack. There was a lot more in the spotlight right now. He did intend to tell her about it, but now the timing seemed out of the question. It was just a thought in the back of his mind now, and by no means a priority. Jack stuffing himself full of caffeine and not sleeping for over seventy hours was definitely a bigger concern.

He passed the nurse's station and paused for a moment as his eyes grazed over a very young nurse who was bending over to pick up a file from a low shelf. He scolded himself immediately for even slightly deviating from his purpose to look at her.

He shook himself away from the temptation and continued down the hall, passing other rooms slowly, glancing inside and hoping that Jack wouldn't have just stumbled into some stranger's hospital room. He figured that wasn't very likely, even if Jack was still in the same state that he had been before.

It was no surprise to him that Jack had disappeared. Even while Evelyn _wanted_ to believe the nurse that he may have been moved, Bobby didn't want to waste the time waiting to see. One of the first things he remembered about meeting Jack was being annoyed that he would just wander off. Even in the house, he could disappear somewhere, so quiet that you'd never know where to look first.

Bobby wouldn't admit it, but he always worried when Jack disappeared, even if he was gone for just a short period of time. He just had never thought of Jack as very self-sufficient, even though in reality the kid was like an armored shell sometimes. As a Mercer, you had to be. Still, the protective side of Bobby emerged anytime one of his brothers was in a potentially compromising situation.

One of his consolations now was that they were in a hospital. There wasn't much that could happen to him inside a hospital, considering they were prepared to deal with most any kind of emergency Jack might want to create. It was ironic, because for the amount of time Jack spent in his life trying to blend in or hide himself, he certainly put a lot of attention on himself too.

Within a few minutes, Bobby impressed himself by finding his little brother. It wasn't hard; after a turn down another hall, he noticed him right away sitting in a chair outside of some public restrooms. As he approached, he studied Jack. He was slouched down low in the plastic chair, head leaned back against the wall. He wanted to laugh at him, mostly because the stress of the situation had driven him to that point and because of the standard hospital gown the kid was wearing.

He felt fairly satisfied seeing him, mostly because he was right in his instinct. Of course he'd known Jack would be here.

His eyes were closed and he didn't move as Bobby sat down next to him. Bobby was hoping that something the hospital had done during the time they'd been here would have cleared Jack's head. He really hoped he wasn't in the same state of mind as when they'd arrived…

"Hey, Jack," Bobby began, clearing his throat. "Nice little dress you've got there."

Jack rolled his head to the side at the sound of the voice and his eyes opened. He didn't look at Bobby though, he looked around the room as though he was trying to figure out where he was.

"Bobby," he said, voice hoarse. "You…"

"Ma's here," Bobby said. "We didn't know where you'd gone. Let's go back there." Part of him wanted to shake Jack for thinking he could just get up and roam wherever his heart desired. But at this point, he was used to Jack doing it, had obviously expected it, and knew acting angry had never made a difference.

Jack made a face "No… It's fine here."

"Did you hear me? Ma's here." Bobby watched Jack reach a hand up to his face, pushing his hair back from his forehead, and saw the trail of blood down his wrist. "Jesus…"

"I'm just resting a second, and then—" Jack pulled his arm away as Bobby touched his wrist. "Fuck off."

"Fuck off?" Bobby echoed. "Why the hell are you bleeding?" He remembered the discarded IV back in the room as he watched Jack cradle his arm to his chest.

"Why'd you bring me here?" Jack asked. "Let's just—"

"How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Jack scowled. "Fine. I feel fine. I feel… I feel like going…" He slid out of the chair and stood up, a little unsteady.

Bobby then laughed out loud and reached up to close the back of Jack's hospital gown, keeping his hand there to hold it closed. "Man, have you really been walking around like that?"

Jack turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Bobby, having no idea what he was talking about.

Bobby laughed wholeheartedly, the image of Jack clueless walking down the hall bare assed too gratifying to pass up.

"What?" Jack answered.

"Nothing." Bobby smiled at him. He chuckled once more and then forced himself to be somber. It would be funnier later when he could actually describe it back to Jack. "Nothing at all. Let's find, Ma."

"Let's just go," Jack responded, voice almost a croak, taking a step away. Bobby's grip on his hospital gown held him back though. Jack glared again. "Come on."

"Man, it's not a good idea," Bobby answered. "And you're bleeding…"

Jack looked down at his arm uncertainly and then wiped off some of the blood on his hospital gown.

"Very sterile. Nice. Just what the hospital likes," Bobby answered. "Seriously. Ma's waiting. I told her within ten minutes I'd be back"

Jack paused and then looked at Bobby again for a moment. With a wayward glance towards the hall, he said, "I don't want them to pump my stomach. She said—"

"They won't."

Jack's brow furrowed. "How do you know?"

Bobby's arm was aching from holding the gown closed. "Because they already did."

Jack looked utterly confused. "No… No, they didn't."

"Yes, they did," Bobby answered. "I assure you, they did."

"They couldn't have—"

"They did, Jack. Trust me. Now quit being a pain and let's just go back."

"How could…" Jack continued to frown, even more bothered now by the lack of memory. How could he not remember something like that? "How could that be…"

"You're exhausted." Bobby stood up. "It's probably better you don't remember it. I've heard it's not too pleasant."

"It's your fault."

"My fault?" Bobby eyed an older nurse walking by and let go of the gown, approaching her and leaving Jack just a couple feet behind him. "Ma'am. Excuse me. Is there any way to get an extra hospital gown?"

She looked at him and then shrugged. "Yeah. Closet behind you has some linens and supplies."

Bobby watched her walk away, surprised she was suggesting that he go through the supply closet as a visitor, but then shrugged. He turned back, watching Jack stare off down the hall, and eyed the closet. "Jack, stay put."

He walked over to the closet and pulled open the door. There were neat shelves of towels, bed linens, and there… Gowns. He pulled one off the shelf and turned back to Jack, who hadn't moved.

He unfolded the gown as he walked over and took Jack's arm. "While I'm sure everyone really appreciates the show, Jack," he said, pushed Jack's arm through the sleeve of the gown, "this is better. Let's—"

"Where'd you park?" Jack asked.

"Park?" Bobby echoed.

"I can't believe you brought me here. You lied. You always lie to me." Jack scowled. "I don't know why I ever thought this was a good idea."

"I rarely lie." Bobby finished securing the gown around Jack and watched him sway a little. He put his hand on his back. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fucking fine," Jack insisted combatively, but his voice was less believable now.

"Fucking fine. I buy that," Bobby answered. "Can you tell me why every time I come home, you do something to fuck up? Is it the attention? Couldn't you have done this when I wasn't around?"

Jack didn't answer. He simply stood there, looking exhausted. It was then that the voice came over the intercom of the hospital. "Paging Mr. Jack Mercer….. Mr. Jack Mercer, could you please report…"

Bobby started to laugh again, not listening to the rest of the message. He shook his head in disbelief. "Hear that? They're looking for you. I found you. I wonder if I get a prize."

"You still lied… I asked you…."

"Jack." Bobby rolled his eyes. "I never lie to you."

"You do."

"What'd I lie about?"

"All this… Everything…" Jack swayed a little bit and then despite his desire for independence, gripped Bobby's arm for balance.

Bobby held him steady. "Okay. I'll agree that I'm a big fat liar. I said I'd take you home, and I didn't. You know why?" Bobby used his hold to turn Jack to fully face him. "Because you almost _killed yourself_, that's why. Now let's go."

"No, I _didn't_," Jack retorted, pulling his arm back and refusing to look his brother in the eye. He winced, the place on his arm where he'd pulled the IV aching. He stared at the blood for a second.

"No? Swallowing that many pills of anything seem smart to you? And what about the other things? Weed, I can see, not that I'm happy, but Ritalin? What the fuck is up with that?"

Jack blinked, going a little bit pale. "What?"

"Yeah, surprise, surprise," Bobby retorted. "I know."

"I never—"

"Blood tests don't lie, Cracker Jack," Bobby said stiffly. "They never lie."

"That was—"

"I don't even care when it was. We're not going to talk about it now anyway. This isn't the place."

"That was before…"

"I don't _care_," Bobby persisted. "I really don't care. But the sooner you just come with me, and I don't have to look like a lunatic and drag you, then the sooner we can go home and I can sleep off my hangover. And I will drag you. Maybe you don't care, but I'm not leaving Ma much longer."

Jack set his jaw.

Bobby sighed, studying his face. "I know that stubborn look. It won't work," he answered. "Why are you doing this to Ma? Seriously, man. She put up with this thing you wanted to do, and then you hide from her. What are you gonna do? Just sit here in this chair?"

"She's angry."

"She's not," Bobby answered. "She's worried." He saw Jack's look and insisted. "And I'm not lying. Why after years do you still not understand her and how she works? There's not a scary bone in her body. Yet you continue to hide every time you so much as sneeze."

"I want to go home."

Bobby sighed. "Exactly. Me too." He paused. "Let's go see Ma, okay?"

Jack hesitated.

"Jackie," Bobby began. "If you didn't trust me… Then why would you call me to get you in the first place?"

"I don't know…"

"You do." Bobby took a deep breath. "It's because you do trust me. You know I'm right. Let's go see her."

"I can't."

"You can." Bobby stared at him, wondering why no matter how big Jack got, he still turned into that frightened little boy who thought the world was out to get him.

Bobby was convinced they'd won him over. He knew they'd persuaded him of otherwise, and knew that as much as Jack still looked like a kicked puppy half the time, he did trust them. They'd given him no reason not to.

He spoke again. "They'll check you out, and then we'll take you home and both of us can go back to bed. It's all over."

"Yeah…" Jack sounded reluctant.

"And…" Bobby slipped his hand to his back again, pushing him to walk a little bit in the right direction. "I bet you don't even have to go to school tomorrow."

"Yeah. They think I'm a freak." Jack took a few unenthusiastic steps with Bobby.

"Who does?"

"School."

"Who at school?"

Jack shrugged, and a flash of today's events in class in his head made him feel a little sick. He really had acted like a freak.

"Well, I'll kick their ass," Bobby muttered. "Any of 'em."

Jack thought about Bobby attacking the cheerleader that had sneered at him, and kind of smiled for a moment. But even that wasn't enough of a comfort to make him feel any better about what had happened that day, or what would happen. "Bobby…?" he began.

"Yeah," Bobby answered, relieved that they were at least now walking in the right direction, keeping his hand on Jack's back but letting him walk. Jack hated being controlled.

"Did you tell her?"

"Tell her?"

"Did you _tell_ her?" Jack insisted in his gravelly voice.

Bobby was confused by the question. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I didn't tell anybody anything, I don't think…"

"But you said you'd tell her."

Bobby thought about it, and realized suddenly that Jack was referring to the threat he'd made that morning during the fight about the pills… The threat to tell Evelyn about Jack's burns. He still intended to tell her, when the time was right. It made him too nervous to ignore it, and he just didn't know how to handle it himself.

"Oh, that," Bobby said. "No, Jack. I didn't tell her."

"Okay…" Jack's shoulders slumped with a little bit of relief.

But I will, Bobby wanted to say. He couldn't though. Not now.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to everybody who has continued to review. You're the ones that keep me going with this. There's a few of you I especially count on to keep me excited about the story with your own enthusiasm, and I appreciate it._

_I'm debating a few ways to go with this story. There's a lot of uncovered territory with Jack, but that can always evolve into a new story instead of dragging one out. So we'll see what happens. Any suggestions are welcomed._

_I've been really busy lately, but your reviews really urged me to write. Thank you._

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Angel was watching TV, feet up on the coffee table. He was bored and annoyed. Bored because there was absolutely nothing on TV. There was some important news conference that he had absolutely no interest in watching, but it was being broadcast live on most of the primetime stations. It annoyed the hell out of him.

But his annoyance also stemmed from being home alone. Sofi was out with her mother for dinner; she'd gotten some kind of promotion at work and they were celebrating. He didn't know how late she'd be, but his calls fifteen minutes earlier had gone unanswered. Bobby had left to get Jack from school, and wasn't back yet. Ma hadn't come home from work yet either…. Which was bizarre considering it was late in the afternoon already, and she would normally be home by now.

He didn't know why Bobby was taking so long, but he was annoyed. He wondered if they'd gone somewhere. That pissed him off too. For all Bobby pretended not to put up with Jack's shit and feigned anger at his cutting out of school and begging rides, Angel could tell he actually let the kid wrap him around his finger like it was nothing. Whenever Bobby came home, it was the same exact thing. Bobby would fight it, but in the end Angel could tell he tried to please Jack. It was like Bobby felt bad for him or something. Angel had stopped feeling bad for him a while ago.

When the phone rang, Angel got up almost in relief at something to do, someone to talk to. It would mostly be just long enough to say "She's not home yet," but it was something. He walked quickly to grab the cordless phone from the other chair where it was sitting on the cushion next to the paper.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Angel," Bobby greeted. "Hey, man."

"Dude," Angel responded. "Where've you and Cracker Jack been? You've been gone forever, man. His school ain't that far."

"Yeah, listen… I—"

"Ma ain't home yet either. I'm so bored. No car. Sofi's out and Jerry's busy with the kids. I feel like I'm trapped…"

Bobby paused for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say, how to explain the afternoon. "Yeah, about that… Uh… We're at the hospital," Bobby replied.

Angel frowned, letting the rest of his sentence slip away. Suddenly his annoyance and boredom seemed forgotten, replaced with a pang of worry. "What?"

Bobby paused again. "Yeah… Not exactly what I expected from my day. Ma's here and—"

"It's not Ma, is it?"

"No," Bobby said quickly. "No, man. It's Jack… He's fine now—or will be fine, but surprise, surprise… He overdid this whole not sleeping, trying to stay awake thing."

"Because we all knew it was such a great idea… What happened?" Angel could hear behind Bobby the sound of the hospital. Some kind of announcement and voices passing by. "He okay?"

"More or less."

"What's that mean?"

"Means more or less," Bobby repeated.

"How's Ma?"

"Worried. But he should be fine, really. That's what they keep saying." He sighed, wondering if he was trying to convince himself instead of Angel. "It's just so stupid, you know? The reason for it all." He paused for a moment, and then said, "I actually don't want to stay on the phone long, I need to get back with them… I just… I figured you were wondering where we all were."

"Yeah. I was. When are you comin' home?"

"I don't know. I hope they don't keep him here. But I'm not sure. If he quits being a pain in the ass, maybe we could get out of here, but right now I don't know."

"What do they need to keep him for if nothing's wrong? You said he was okay. "

"Just to make sure. It's not that nothing's wrong. It's that it could be a lot worse."

"I knew he sounded weird on the phone before. It's all from not sleeping?"

"And the caffeine. Not the best thing for your body."

"From the caffeine? Really? Well, what now then?"

"Now they just want to make sure he's fine. I never really knew you could have too much caffeine, did you?"

Angel frowned. "Honestly never really thought about it."

"Me neither…" Bobby admitted. He took a deep breath. "Okay, we'll talk later then, alright?"

"Yeah, call me."

"I will. And, I guess, just order a pizza or something if you get hungry. I don't know if we'll be home for dinner."

"I might just go to Jerry's. Did you call him?"

"No, not yet. I think I'll wait. Till we know more. I mean, you can tell him. I just don't wanna be calling everybody worrying 'em." Bobby paused. "Alright, man… I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Bobby."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

When Bobby walked back into the hospital room, he was in time to see more drama erupting. Evelyn was sitting in a chair beside Jack's hospital bed. Jack was now back in his room, sitting up on the edge of the bed looking belligerent and worried.

"What is that?" he asked as he watched the nurse inject something into his IV line. After being told again and again that it was simply medicine to rehydrate him and threatened by Bobby, he'd reluctantly allowed the IV to be placed in his arm again, but now he became suspicious.

The nurse gave him an appeasing look. "I told you, Jack. We just want to make sure you're hydrated. Caffeine's a diuretic and additionally you haven't been resting."

"Then I'll drink water. Nobody gave me water," Jack answered. "What is it really?"

The nurse looked hesitant. "Just fluids, Jack."

Jack turned his head and gave Evelyn a troubled look, feeling extremely uncomfortable and not sure who to now trust. "Ma."

"Jack," Evelyn answered, reaching over to pat his arm. "Honey, it's fine. Didn't we just talk about this? It's important you just let them do their job."

"But what is it?" He looked back at the nurse. "What's the name of it?" He squinted at the vial that she had just taken the drug from and then at the tube running into his arm. His heart pounded. "I have a right to know, and I don't understand why you won't tell me."

"Diazepam," the nurse answered patiently, realizing that a drug name was probably harmless enough. If it would appease him, then he might as well know. But when she saw Jack's face she regretted the disclosure. Perhaps this kid knew more than she thought.

"No," Jack said, alarmed. "No, that's not for that at all. You lied." His hand shifted towards the IV.

"You know what Diazepam is?" the nurse asked, a little surprised but also skeptical.

"Yes," Jack assured. "And I'm not going to go to sleep. It's—"

"It's not a sedative."

"Yes." Jack glared at her. "It is. It's for anxiety. I'm not an idiot. Stop lying to me." He tugged at the IV.

"Jack," Bobby walked over from the doorway he'd been watching from as the nurse sent a helpless look towards Evelyn. "Stop it. How do you even know that?"

"My friend's dad's a pharmacist." Jack looked at Bobby and frowned. "I don't need to be _lied _to," he said, fingers gripping the IV catheter. "I'm not _stupid_."

"You are stupid. And if you pull that out again, you're done, understand?" Bobby persisted. "Stop." He reached for Jack's hand. "Seriously."

"Fine," Jack pushed his hand away, but then immediately moved to take part of the IV line and bend it, hoping to restrict the passage of the drugs. "Look. I don't need to sleep right now. Everything feels better, and—"

"Don't need sleep, why?" Evelyn insisted. "Jack, you've been up for a very long time. Sleep is the one thing you _do_ need. Frustrating the doctors and Bobby is not something you need."

"I can do more now. Now that I feel okay."

"You already fell asleep," Bobby said impatiently. "You fucking _told _me. So you already stopped."

"No." Jack set his jaw. "I didn't. I—"

"You told me you did. Right after I came to get you."

Jack gave him an irritable look. "I trusted you."

Bobby didn't care for his accusations. "Look at you right now, and where you are because of it all. Just stop acting like this. Ma and I want to go home."

"Then let's go home. But I didn't fall asleep."

"Yes you did. And it's consecutive hours awake. You can't fall asleep and then—"

"I don't think I did," Jack objected. "So I can—"

"Think?"

The nurse cleared her throat. "Jack, you actually did fall asleep for a while after the procedure. So—"

"NO." Jack said, voice louder, still hoarse. "NO. I didn't."

"Jack," Evelyn began, her voice warning, sterner than she usually used with him. "Let's not do this."

"May I ask why this was ever allowed to begin with?" the nurse began with a frown. "Not sleeping is a severe danger to your health and—"

"You can't make somebody sleep," Bobby answered. "Especially not him."

"You can with this shit," Jack said, as he folded another part of the IV line. "Can we take it out? I should get a choice to—"

"No," the nurse said. "You need to let go of the tube, Jack."

"I should have a choice," Jack objected.

"Not when you've put yourself in a dangerous position," the nurse replied. "Now, I don't want to argue with you, but all I will say is that if you're unwilling to allow the IV, then I'm just going to have to give you a direct needle injection. Which would you prefer?"

"I'd prefer to go home." Jack looked at Evelyn again. "Why can't we go home?"

"No, Jack," Evelyn answered. "Not until we make sure you're okay. And to do that, you need to cooperate."

"Jack, when you came in here first," the nurse spoke up, "you said that you felt like something was very, very wrong. Your pulse has gone down, but is still very high for a resting rate. You can't go home until we can be sure your body is not overstressed."

"It's not overstressed," Jack insisted. He was starting to feel drowsier, and it made him angry. He put his hand on the catheter again. Didn't a patient have a right to decide what was going to be done? His heart had quieted down a lot, and he didn't feel nearly like he had before, but he wasn't sure what he felt instead.

He didn't like this feeling from the drugs. He was afraid it would overcome him. He didn't want anything to overcome.

Evelyn watched the look on Jack's face and then gave the nurse a look. "Why don't you give us a minute, and then we can get everything settled, okay?"

The nurse nodded, looking just the slightest bit frustrated and walked towards the door, gone a moment later.

"Jack…" Evelyn began. She shifted her chair closer to Jack's bed and rested her hand on his knee. "Jack. Leave your IV alone. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Bobby sat down on the edge of Jack's bed, watching Jack's frown as Evelyn spoke to him. He wasn't sure why Jack was being so difficult about all of this. Whether it was the tiredness making him so difficult or something else.

Evelyn continued. "You don't even know why, do you, Jack? You don't even have a reason. Arguing everything just for the sake of arguing… You know that gets you no where, and certainly not out of here. And I know you want to get out of here and go home, honey. So you just need to let everyone do their job. What happened to you was very serious, you understand? That's why we can't just leave."

"I can feel it…" Jack whimpered.

"Feel what?" Bobby asked. "Are you even listening to anybody?

"I can feel it though…" Jack pulled at the catheter again but Bobby grabbed his hand, yanking it away. The gesture was rough, and Jack stared at him in surprise.

"You know what, Jack?" Bobby began impatiently. "Everyone's just trying to help you. And so far everyone's been nice, but we're getting getting sick of it, Jack. _Sick_ of it."

"Bobby," Evelyn objected.

"No," Bobby replied. "Aren't you? He needs to hear this." He turned his eyes back on Jack. "You won't keep your hands off it, Jack? Fine. They can restrain you. That's what they do to people. You want them to do that? And that nurse? She's being nice because that's how she is. You think they don't have other people working here that don't give a shit how you feel? Some big orderly that'll convince you? She doesn't have time for it. Because enough is enough and you're wasting everybody's time. How about we go find one of them?"

"Go ahead," Jack retorted, annoyed again. He felt defensive against Bobby's tone. He wrenched his hand away.

"Fine." Bobby slid off the bed. "You think I'm kidding." He began to walk away.

"Bobby, no," Jack protested when Bobby left the bed. His heart began to pound. "Bobby… Please."

"Bobby," Evelyn said stiffly. "Stop it."

"Me stop?" Bobby turned around. He raised his eyebrows at her and crossed his arms over his chest. Then he glanced at Jack, who now looked like he might cry. He felt bad for a moment and then looked back at Evelyn stubbornly.

"It's not funny," she said.

"I'm not trying to be funny."

"Well, it's not helpful either," she said candidly. "At all."

He shrugged.

"Come sit down," she persisted.

Unenthused, he walked back over. After all, she was right. He was just scaring Jack, not convincing him of anything, and sure as hell not calming him down. He sat down on the edge of the bed, closer to Jack's feet this time. The teenager remained silent, staring down at his legs. His hands, however, remained at his sides, away from the IV.

"Everyone just needs to take a deep breath," Evelyn said patiently. "Okay? We'll be able to go home as soon as we all just relax. Jack… It's important. Okay?"

Jack didn't respond.

"Sweetheart, look at me," she persisted. "I promise we'll go home as soon as they let us. But I can guarantee it's _not _going to happen until you calm down, and that's all Bobby's trying to say too."

"I don't want to sleep…" he objected with a sad shade to his voice.

"Why not?"

"Because…" he replied.

"Jack, you know that's not an acceptable answer, to me or the nurses," she answered. "You're worrying me and Bobby. You admitted yourself that not sleeping wasn't a good idea. So let's just put it in the past and move on. Will you do me that favor?"

He made a stubborn face that caused her to sigh.

"Jack," she continued. "I've never known you to want to give anybody a hard time." When Bobby scoffed, she sent him a look. He looked away, and she continued. "You're tired, Jack. Right?"

Jack nodded, sighing. It would be a blatant lie to deny that. He felt exhausted now, and knew that it was from what the nurse had given him. And that annoyed him but his restlessness was disappearing a little bit. He was feeling too tired, especially to argue with Evelyn.

"So lay back…" she persisted, putting a gentle hand on his forearm and pushing him back just a little. "And rest."

Reluctantly, Jack obeyed and started to move back onto the bed.

He didn't want to… But…. She was right; he really didn't have a reason for what he was doing, and as much as he wanted to fight it, the IV was making him groggy.

If he pulled it out, he wasn't quite sure what Bobby would do, and figured that all that could happen would eventually involve him being put right back in this position. And what if Bobby was right, and they got someone to physically force him? He didn't want that either.

Bobby moved out of the way as Jack lifted his legs up onto the bed and pulled himself back against the pillows. He refrained from saying anything, because he knew it probably wouldn't come out right, and he didn't want the subsequent reaction from either Jack or Evelyn.

But Jack was calmer now, thanks to, and in no surprise due to, Evelyn.

And that, at least, was an improvement.

He reached out and rubbed Jack's leg. Maybe they would go home soon.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**A big thank you to everyone reading this. Really. Thank you. I appreciate it and all the comments so much and I wish I could really get across that every single comment means that much to me. I've been crazy and busy recently so I'm sorry I haven't updated as quickly as usual. I don't have too much time to add much of a note other than to give my gratitude, so I will just also say, enjoy. **

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Bobby felt like he'd been at the hospital for days. As he stared at the vending machine, at the limited assortment of pretzels, chips, and Lifesavers, he almost felt like he was the one that had been up for seventy hours.

He wasn't quite sure how long they would be there, or what else there was for the nurses to observe. He agreed with Jack and just wanted to take him home, but his reasons were selfish. He figured that the worst was over, and at this point he just wanted to be home relaxing. He could have his feet up on the couch watching TV right now and drinking a beer instead of walking around this sterile environment listening to paging over the intercom and the beeps of machines. It made Jack worse too. He was a wreck in hospitals.

He was glad to be able to be with Evelyn, who along with Jack trusted him enough to be a part of the situation. He was also glad he'd decided to bring Jack there, since something had obviously been wrong. But nonetheless it was exhausting, and he would rather be home.

He settled on a bag of Skittles.

He ripped the bag open on the way back to Jack's room, popping a few into his mouth, not caring to taste the individual flavors.

When he returned, he found Evelyn in the same chair and nearly the same position. He sighed, for the umpteenth time amazed at her patience and her endurance. He never could quite understand her devotion to any of them, especially Jack as the baby. He wasn't sure how any human being could have the same kind of patience as her. They certainly created a lot of interesting situations for her. This was not an ordinary day for sure.

"Ma," he said as he returned, walking towards her. When he moved to sit down again on the bed, she shook her head and caught the edge of his shirt.

"Bobby, he's sleeping," she said in a soft voice. She nodded at the other chair in the room. "Sit in a chair, not on his bed."

"He won't wake up," he objected, glancing at his brother. But he walked towards the chair in the corner anyway and quietly dragged it over towards Evelyn, gripping the Skittles bag against the chair as he pulled it.

Finally he sat, resting on leg up against the rail of the hospital bed gently. "What else they say?" he asked quietly. "Can we leave tonight?"

"Possibly," Evelyn answered. "If everything is stable for a little while."

"What's a little while?"

Evelyn sighed. "I don't know, Bobby."

"They don't like giving very definitive answers here, do they…" He poured a couple Skittles into his hand, looking at the colors briefly.

"Not when your brother behaves like he did."

"I guess."

A moment of silence passed between them. Bobby chewed on his Skittles and looked at Jack, appreciating how calm and peaceful his face was as he slept. Sleeping like that he looked so much younger, and pacified. And definitely less complicated.

"I already told you this, Bobby," Evelyn began, "but I'm really glad you decided to bring him here… And not just take him home. I know it must have been tempting to just bring him home. To figure that it was all nothing."

Bobby nodded, chewing on a few orange Skittles. "Well something was wrong. That was obvious enough." He paused. "Hey. Do you have a camera?"

"A camera?" She gave him a confused look.

"I want to be able to prove he was sleeping. In case he wakes up and starts that 'I haven't slept' bullshit."

"Bobby." She shook her head. "I think we're beyond that."

"Well…" He shrugged. "I don't know."

"The real question is…" she continued, speaking softly and slowly, the way she did when she had an important conversation in mind, "was how much of this is caffeine and sleeplessness… And how much of this… is something else."

"What do you mean?'

Evelyn looked at him. "Do you not feel that way?" She frowned. "That there's something else behind all of this? I guess it's just…"

Bobby swallowed down the yellow skittle in his mouth. "Yes," he said. He cleared his throat, thinking of all the things he'd meant to discuss with Evelyn, before all of this. They were all so scattered now. "I mean, I do. I agree."

"I was talking to the nurse while you were gone," she continued. "Once Jack was asleep."

"And?" The chair creaked as Bobby leaned back against it.

"There were a couple other things that we hadn't talked about before," she replied. "Because the first thing they wanted to do was make sure there was nothing else in his system and that he got some rest."

"Yeah." Bobby started to feel nervous. He looked at Jack's complacent, restful face, and thought to him, What now, Jackie?

"This is going to sound weird, but have you noticed his arms recently, Bobby?"

"His arms?" Bobby echoed. And then he realized he knew exactly what she was talking about. "The burns."

Evelyn looked surprised at the direct answer. She gave Bobby a quizzical look.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Bobby explained, rubbing at his jaw. He needed to shave. "Remember, I wanted to talk to you? Well it was because of that. I noticed that this week."

"Did you notice last time you were home, Bobby…?" she persisted. "Because I can't… I can't recall…"

Bobby picked up on her tone immediately. Guilt. He looked at her and frowned. She hadn't known. She now felt bad because she hadn't known. "Ma, he's always up in his room or…" he trailed off, trying to object to her unspoken sentiment. "I don't notice."

"I didn't know," she admitted aloud.

"Well, how could you. I only randomly—"

"You're home for a week and you noticed."

"By chance," he answered. "By complete chance."

"Well, it's my job to notice," she answered. "That's my job, to take care of him, and I had no idea."

"That's not your fault," he replied. "You can't possibly know what his every little action is, Ma."

"It's not a little action," she answered, voice low. "He's hurting himself. And it needs to stop."

"The nurses noticed?"

She nodded. "Right away. Put it in his chart after they did his vitals. I mean the second you take his pulse…"

"Anyone mention it to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Not the time. Like I said, they had to make sure of what was going on then." She took a deep breath. "I feel ridiculous. For not stopping this whole sleep act from the beginning, for not noticing his—"

"We already agreed you can't force him to sleep," Bobby defended. "Whatcha gonna do? Slip him sleeping pills? That would've helped."

"Still, Bobby."

"No. You did the best anybody could've. You couldn't've gotten pissed about it."

"When did you see it?"

"Huh?"

"The burns."

"Oh… Just the other night. He was up late, I was up. Just happened to notice it. He wouldn't talk about it. And he got upset that I would tell you. And then all of this happened before I could."

Evelyn just sighed.

"I didn't know why… Or… I didn't now people did that."

She shook her head, breathing deeply. "When you were younger… There was another boy I was working with. A little older than you. Timothy. Do you remember him?"

Bobby nodded, looking at the back of the candy wrapper in his head. "Yeah. I remember him."

"Well, Timothy used to cut himself," she answered, brow frowning as she remembered the details of the boy. "Doubt you ever knew that."

"No," Bobby admitted.

"It's something people don't usually advertise," she answered. "It's not for attention. I never even knew too much about it until Timothy. And then there wasn't enough I could find out about it."

"Timothy wasn't anything like Jack, though," Bobby objected, thinking back on the boy that Evelyn was referring too. He couldn't think of much in the way of comparison. "Least what I remember."

"Very different personalities," Evelyn agreed. "And Tim was a bit older when I worked with him. But they had some definitely similarities in their backgrounds."

"Like what?" Bobby glanced at her. She was still watching Jack sleep.

"Abuse," she answered. "Physical, sexual, emotional… Whatever label you want to put on it. From a very young age. They shared that, without a doubt. Dissociative personalities. Emotional problems. All kind of rolled up into an array of other complications that come with life."

"What happened to Tim anyway?"

"He went with another family and they moved to Chicago," she answered. "Then, I don't know, honestly… He was seventeen or so when they moved. I think it was a good move, but they lost touch."

"So he cut himself? That's not the same, or… I guess it is," Bobby replied. "As burning, I mean. I just… I never knew people did that."

"Not a lot of people do…"

"Just like I never knew you could overdose on caffeine," Bobby continued. "You learn something new every day."

Evelyn didn't reply.

"So, uh… Why?" Bobby persisted, voice soft. There were only a few Skittles left in the bag and he felt them through the package. "Why did he do it? I mean, obviously there's a reason, if he's not the only one."

Evelyn nodded. "Yeah. There's a reason. But it's really not that easy. To just label it."

Bobby preferred to label things. "But you said they both had things in common."

"True. But there's plenty of other people who do it who have nothing in common with them. To be honest, I don't know if anybody fully understands it. I only have a little bit of knowledge because of Timothy."

"Well, I have no knowledge," Bobby replied, a little regrettably.

"It's more of a coping mechanism than anything else," Evelyn continued. "It's like when you feel so much of any feeling, you just lose your patience, or you need to be physical." Bobby rolled his eyes, but said nothing as she continued. "When you hurt yourself instead, it's kind of to distract you from whatever is going on. To cope."

"Well, nothing's going on though," Bobby said. "Jack's fine now."

"Yes," she agreed. "But, Bobby, you can't ever erase the past he had before he came here. That doesn't suddenly go away. It affects how you develop, no matter how much you want to make believe it didn't happen. And unfortunately, often people who hurt themselves like that usually have a background of certain kinds of abuse."

"Yeah…"

"Basically they see it as a stress release. Instead of dealing with whatever feeling they have, they replace it with an immediate feeling of something else."

"Oh, because feeling pain is better," Bobby answered sarcastically.

"It's not that. It's… You understand then what it's about. Whereas before, whatever you were feeling, you didn't understand… So you couldn't deal with it. But once you do this, it's gone."

Bobby made a face. "It makes sense, but it's not… I mean it's just an excuse for it. It's not…"

"I know."

"I've never heard of something like that."

"Most people cope another way."

"Well…" Bobby paused. "Then what? That's the way they deal with it? They don't stop. So Jack won't stop?'

"It's all about how you deal with it."

"Well, no one's dealt with it."

"I know. And beyond that, not dealing is part of it. It sounds silly, but people need role models for most things, even how to deal with how they feel. If people around you don't deal with extreme feelings the right way… well then, you won't know how."

"I guess. I mean it seems innate."

"It's not. People inherit conditionally. I mean, if no one ever handled, anger for example, well then… How do you know how to be angry? Where did you learn to be angry?"

Bobby shrugged, shifting restlessly. "I don't know." He paused, speaking in a low voice. "My father. I guess."

"Exactly. Well, maybe Jack never had anyone show him any way to deal with feelings. So he doesn't know how."

"I just don't get it, because Jack's angry, or whatever, as much as anybody should be. It's not like he doesn't feel anything."

"I know, Bobby. I do. That's why it's hard to explain. It's just deep inside. I'm just telling you what I know, too. No one really knows for sure."

"You seem to know."

"Like I said. I just know from what I found out when I was working with Timmy. By no means is anyone an _expert_. No one completely understands it. The important thing is to accept it."

"Just accept it?"

"Not that it won't stop. You just can't judge it."

Bobby looked unconvinced. "Okay…"

"I'm serious. When I talked to someone about Timothy, that was the first thing they told me. Acting like it's a terrible thing, or acting like it's repulsive, is the worst thing that you can do."

"Well I didn't," Bobby answered. "When I noticed. I just asked him what the hell he did it for."

"And he didn't say."

"No. He never says anything. I don't know if he ever answers anything I ask. I remember when I first met him, even asking him his name was a battle. He—"

"We're all different, Bobby. You know that. And you know how he is."

"Yeah," Bobby admitted. "I just don't understand him."

"Life would be too simple if it was that easy to understand somebody," Evelyn replied. "Way too simple. So of course not. We're all hard to understand. Even when you say what you feel, it's not enough. It's impossible to put something so intangible into words. Especially when you don't understand it yourself."

"He doesn't put anything into words. That would at least help."

"I know it's frustrating, Bobby. You don't get used to it, but you just have to accept it. All of it."

"So you don't mind then. That he does that. That he… he hurts himself like that. It's just the way he is. It's the way Tim was."

"No, no, no," she objected. "Not at all. It bothers me immensely. I can't…" She shook her head. "I can't even describe what I'm feeling. Or know what to do. I don't know."

"You said you have to accept it though. I just don't get how you stop him if you just accept it. It's like we just accepted this sleep game and look what happened."

"I know, honey. I know. It's a different kind of accepting."

"Well, what did the nurse say when she told you?"

"A lot of what I'm telling you right now," she replied. "She… She asked if I wanted her to recommend someone for him to talk to. Or…"

"Did you tell her he's already got a shrink?"

"He hasn't been there in ages, Bobby."

"That's 'cause he hated it."

"Sometimes breaks are necessary."

"You're not gonna make him go back, are you?"

She hesitated. "I don't know, Bobby. I don't. I need to talk to him about that."

"Because don't." Bobby shook his head, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No one loves therapy, Bobby. But sometimes it helps."

"It's too clichéd. Send him to therapy. Won't fix anything. He hates it. Do you know what it's like for him to have someone staring at him for an hour? Alone in the room with them?"

"You know him better than you think, Bobby."

"I know the obvious, Ma. A stranger off the street could see that from him in a second. Some things are easy."

Jack stirred in the bed that moment, causing them both to quiet down and stare at him. The awkwardness of the conversation, discussing something so personal with that person right there, suddenly hit them. Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"Can we take him home now, Ma?" he asked, clearing his throat. "I've had enough of this."

"I'm sure we can in a little bit, honey. Just let him rest and let them tell us its okay…" She paused. "If you want to go home, also, you really can. I have my car here, and I don't know how long it'll be. You've been here a long time and—"

"I'll wait."

"You can go make sure Angel gets himself dinner, and—"

"I told him to order a pizza," Bobby replied. "He's capable enough to do that. It's fine. I don't want to leave you here alone."

"But you can, Bobby. It's fine."

"No, I brought him here. I can wait till he comes home."

"Okay. It's up to you."

"I'll stay."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Jack felt himself somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Slowly he opened his eyes and realized the room he was in was dark, and he wasn't quite sure where he was. Once again it slowly came back to him and he was filled with that dread and anxiousness. He felt the IV and the rail at the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.

Where was everybody? He started to feel a little panicky, and shifted, moving to sit up a bit as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could see light from the doorway and heard voices. He didn't know whose voices though.

He strained to listen and then recognized a voice. He clung to it, frightened in the dark.

"Bobby," he said aloud. His voice was still hoarse and it frustrated him. "Bobby!"

A moment later, Bobby appeared in the doorway and then slowly walked over through the dark. "What's wrong? You're up," he said.

"Where'd you all go?" Jack answered, sitting up straighter as he frowned.

"You all? Ma and me? We're just outside talking to your doctor. How you feelin'? You wanna go home?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded. He rubbed at his eyes and then held his hand in front of him, staring at the tube. He moved to touch it. "Now?"

"Buddy, wait." Bobby shook his head. "Let them do it. And maybe. They were saying once you woke up we could maybe take you home. So let them do their shit and it'll be easier. Okay?"

"What time…" Jack looked at the window. It was dark out. "What time is it?"

"Late. You've been sleeping for a bit."

"Bobby…"

"Yeah." Bobby moved to sit back on the edge his chair beside the bed again. He studied Jack's face in the dark. He looked exhausted. Bobby himself was exhausted so knew Jack had to feel a hundred times worse.

"Are you angry?" Jack asked.

"Nobody's angry."

Jack played with the IV line, staring at it with a furrowed brow. "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

Bobby almost laughed. "Man. Serious? That's what you're thinking about?"

"No."

"What are you thinking about?"

"I need to go."

"We'll go when Ma's done talking to the doc, man." Bobby sighed, stifling a yawn. "It'll be soon."

"No, not that go, I mean, I need to _go_…" Jack answered, looking up from the IV tube at Bobby cautiously. Then he looked back at the tube.

"Oh." Bobby paused. "You gotta piss." He took a deep, tired breath and looked over at the bathroom in the room. "You need help, you mean?"

"I don't know," Jack admitted. Then he said, "No. No, I don't." He started to slide his legs over, sitting on the edge of the bed and slowly testing his feet on the floor.

"You sure?" Bobby watched him cautiously. Jack slowly stood up and Bobby slid his chair back a little to give him room. "I can help."

"No."

Bobby watched Jack try to figure out the IV.

"Jack," came Evelyn's voice from the doorway. "What are you doing out of—"

"He needs to piss," Bobby said, looking behind him at Evelyn entering the room.

"Well, then help him, Bobby."

"I don't _need _help," Jack answered, pulling the rolling IV pole with him as he slowly but surely walked towards the bathroom.

"Bobby…" Evelyn frowned as she watched him. "Jack," she persisted. "Please let him help you, honey."

"Help him what?" Bobby answered. "Hold his dick? He can do it. Let him do it."

She gave him a stern look, but didn't insist, instead nervously watching her youngest son unsteadily walk towards the bathroom. Jack dragged himself and the IV pole into the bathroom and then shut the door firmly behind him. The light inside switched on and the loud sound of the automatic fan hummed from behind the door.

Bobby felt Evelyn's eyes on him and looked up at her. "He can piss by himself. Don't baby him."

"I'm not."

"What did the doctor say?"

"They want to look him over, check his vitals, and then we can take him home," she replied, giving a look at the closed bathroom door. "As long as he cooperates."

"He will." Bobby reached down to tie his shoelace. "God, I'll be glad to be out of here." He glanced up at her. "He asked me if he has to go to school tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes and then looked at the bathroom again. "He's taking a while."

"God, Ma. It's been two seconds."

She walked back towards the door and flipped on the light switch. "It's too dark in here."

Bobby reached over to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, finding jeans and a t-shirt there. Jack's clothes. He pulled them out, tossing them on the bed. "You think he can get dressed now?"

She sighed. "I don't see why not."

"Okay." Bobby got up, gathering up the clothes again, and walked towards the bathroom as Evelyn went to sit down. He knocked on the bathroom door and yawned.

There was no answer.

He knocked again, rolling his eyes. "Hey. Jack?"

Evelyn looked up, a bit of concern on her face.

Bobby shook his head at her, telling her not to be worried, and knocked again. "Jack." He put his hand on the knob and turned. It was unlocked. He slowly opened the door.

Jack was sitting on the floor, bare legs stretched out, head in his hands.

Bobby glanced back at Evelyn, trying to convey that nothing was wrong, and then disappeared into the bathroom as well, closing the door again. "Jack," he said.

Jack didn't move.

"Get off your ass," Bobby persisted. "How many people do you think have pissed, shit, bled, puked, or whatever, right where your ass is right now?"

Jack just shook his head.

Bobby dropped down to a crouch and put the clothes down beside him. "Come on. What are you doing? You wanna worry Ma again? Let's get dressed, let them check you, and we can go home. They told her we can go home."

Jack continued to shake his head.

Sighing, Bobby slid down further to sit beside him, leaning against the wall. "What is it now?" He reached up and pulled Jack's hand down, revealing his tearful face. "Oh, Jack… Come on."

"What did I do…?" Jack asked unhappily.

Bobby sighed, glancing at the door as though he could see through it to Evelyn outside. He didn't want to worry her, he didn't want to worry the nurses. He just wanted to get Jack and go home. Something just told him that once they were out of her, things would be better. "Jack, don't do this."

Jack sniffled.

"Did you piss yet?" Bobby asked. "Can you put on pants?"

Jack nodded weepily.

"Really, Jack, come on," Bobby persisted, passing him his jeans. Jack held them effortlessly. "What is it?"

Jack shrugged, sniffling, eyes red-rimmed. "I'm sorry."

"Then quit crying. Get dressed."

Jack awkwardly reached down and tried to slide one of his feet into his jeans, looking and feeling fairly helpless.

"You want help?" Bobby asked.

"No."

"Okay." Bobby watched him, and Jack managed to get one of his legs into the jeans before just leaning back and closing his eyes, sitting still. "Jack." He sighed again. "Fucking fairy."

Jack just swallowed. "Bobby, I'm tired…"

"No shit, asshole." Bobby started to get up and gestured Jack to do the same. "C'mon. Get dressed. You want Mom?"

"No."

"Want her to help you?"

"No."

"Okay, then come on. You're just sleepy." He pulled the reluctant Jack to his feet, being careful of his IV. "Don't you want to go home?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed, stumbling over the jeans around one of his ankles.

"Okay. Let's just get going. Ma hasn't even eaten dinner or anything, and it's late."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just pull it together." Bobby leaned down and pushed Jack's other foot into the other pants leg. "There's nothing to be crying over. You're impossible, you know that? Fucking impossible."

"I'm tired…" Jack moved to allow Bobby to pull at the jeans.

"I know. I'm tired too." Bobby yanked the jeans up over Jack's narrow hips and quickly buttoned them. "Okay. Shirt. And we're almost done." He bent down to get the shirt off the floor as Jack struggled with his hospital gown, pulling it over his head. He let Bobby roughly pull the t-shirt down over his head in replacement, hissing a little as his IV line got caught.

"Sorry," Bobby muttered. "That thing's a problem," he said as he struggled with Jack's sleeve.

"I can take it out," Jack said.

"No," Bobby replied. "Don't."

"It hurts."

"Only 'cause I bumped it. I'm sorry."

Jack managed to fix his shirt, but the IV line ran down inside his shirt. It would have to be that way until they removed it.

"Okay, good," Bobby said, smoothing the t-shirt down over Jack's belly and yawning for the countless time. "Good?"

"Good."

"Feel good?"

"No."

Bobby smirked. "Yeah, probably not. Ready?"

"I guess," Jack replied miserably.

Bobby pushed open the door behind them and walked out, Jack following him slowly.

"Everything okay?" Evelyn asked as they reemerged. "The doctor popped in. He'll be back in just a few minutes. Jack, sweetheart? How are you?"

Jack was pale and withdrawn. "Good," he said anyway as he walked back towards the bed. He felt completely disillusioned.

"Okay, honey. We'll be home in no time."

"Yeah." He sat on the edge of the bed and waited, listening to his heart beat inside his head like a drum.

He wanted it to be over.

oooooooooooooooooo


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Watching Bobby unlock the front door and walk into house was a bizarre feeling. Jack felt like years had gone by since the last time he'd been inside. School that day seemed ages away. The thought of those classes, and the way he'd felt that day, made him feel nervous and a little sick.

It was so dark out, so late… Why did today feel like it spanned a week?

He realized he was standing on the front step motionless only when he felt Evelyn's hand gently on his back. He snapped back to reality.

"Honey?" she began. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he managed, clearing his throat. He quickly followed Bobby inside, anxious to get everything over with and avoid any more conversation. Evelyn slowly followed, closing the door and locking it behind them.

Ahead of them, Bobby made his way to the family room where he heard the TV on. He viewed Angel, sprawled out on the couch awkwardly, sound asleep with his mouth hanging open and the remote control precariously dangling in his hand.

Bobby walked over and smirked at Angel's position before sitting down heavily on top of him. Angel awoke immediately, taking in a deep breath as though the air had been knocked out of him. He pushed at Bobby irritably, "Fuck, man… What the fuck…" he muttered, tired and caught off guard.

"We're home," Bobby replied, staying where he was.

"Yeah, no shit," Angel retorted as he rubbed at his eyes. "Get off, man. You're crushing me. You weigh a ton." Bobby got up slowly, allowing Angel to sit up and stretch out.

Brooding, Angel straightened his shirt and took a deep breath. "There you are, Jack," he said when he noticed the teenager in the doorway. "You look like shit. Not a surprise. You okay?"

Jack didn't answer. He was looking at the TV and didn't seem to notice Angel's question.

"You all should go to bed," Evelyn said as she walked into the room and set her purse down on the other chair. "It's late, and I'm sure we're all exhausted."

Bobby yawned, affirming her remarks. "Ma, you should eat something and go to sleep yourself."

"I'm not too hungry."

"You didn't have dinner," he pointed out.

"Neither did you."

"I had Skittles," he reminded. "Every fruit flavor." He ignored her as she rolled her eyes in response.

"There's pizza, Ma," Angel told her. "In the fridge. Want me to make you some?" He started to get up.

"No, sweetheart." She shook her head. "You sit. I'm fine. In fact, I'm going to go right to bed, and we'll all talk in the morning." She walked back over to the door where Jack was standing and gave him a look. "We'll talk tomorrow, Jackie, right?"

He stared through her and then just nodded sullenly.

"Angel, heat me up me pizza," Bobby said, catching his brother's arm before he could sit down. Angel turned and gave him an annoyed look, but Bobby persisted with an imploring look. "C'mon, please? Make Jackie some too."

Angel glared at him. "Make your own."

"You're up," Bobby answered relentlessly. He poked him in the leg. "Please…"

"You're so lazy, Bobby."

"I know."

Angel muttered under his breath and then gave in. "Fine."

Bobby smirked. "Thanks."

"Alright, boys," Evelyn began. "Have a good night. Make sure you all go to bed shortly, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Bobby agreed, waving her away. "Go on to bed, Ma. We're all fine."

She gave them one last look before nodding and leaving the room. Angel disappeared into the kitchen, and Bobby stretched out his legs in front of him, watching Jack sulk in the doorway.

After a moment, he frowned and said, "Jack. Stop zoning out. Either come here or go to bed. You want pizza?" With no response, he spoke louder. "Jack!"

Jack turned his head and looked away from the TV, finally looking at his brother.

"You want pizza?" Bobby repeated.

"No."

"Well, Angel's making you some." He gestured him over. "C'mere and sit..." He patted beside him on the couch.

Reluctantly, Jack walked over. "Where's my backpack?" he asked. "Did I leave it?"

"Leave it where?"

Jack frowned. "Hospital?"

"It's in my car," Bobby replied. "We never brought it in the hospital, remember?"

"Oh." Jack approached the couch and sat down. "Yeah." He raised his hand and began to distractedly pick at the tape residue where the IV had been.

Bobby paused, watching him for a minute. It looked bruised where Jack had originally pulled the IV out. He thought about that whole fiasco, and then his mind lingered on something else. "Hey… You know what I just remembered…?" he asked slowly.

"What?" Jack answered, slouching down.

"You owe me twenty bucks."

Frowning, Jack dropped his hand to his lap and gave Bobby a look. "Twenty bucks? For what? No, I don't."

"You do," Bobby persisted. "Don't you remember this morning?"

Jack made a face and took a deep breath. "This morning?"

"Yeah. Before you went to school. Remember what you did?"

Jack continued to frown. "Bobby…"

"You're gonna remember."

"This morning feels like it was a year ago," Jack replied. He took another deep breath. "I'm tired."

"Is there twenty dollars in your pocket?"

"No," Jack answered without checking.

"Jack," Bobby objected. He eyed his brother's pockets for a minute and then realized it wasn't worth the effort. "You still owe me." He shook his head. "Whatever. I'll get it from you tomorrow."

Jack just shrugged.

After another long pause, Bobby cleared his throat. "So, uh, did you and Ma talk about anything on the ride home?" He glanced at him and the way his hair was sticking out all over the place. Bobby had driven home by himself while Evelyn and Jack went in her car.

"No," Jack answered.

"Nothing at all?'

"No."

Bobby didn't know whether to push it, or to drop the subject entirely. He really wanted to know whether Evelyn had tried to talk to Jack yet about the burns, but realized that she probably wouldn't find a twenty minute car ride home from the hospital a great time for that. Regardless, enough without precedent had happened already that day.

They watched TV tiredly until Angel returned a few minutes later with a pizza box in hand.

"You heated it up, right?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, dumbass," Angel answered as he put the box down on the coffee table. "I just put it back in the box after. What'd you think took so long otherwise?"

"I dunno," Bobby replied as he pushed open the box and smiled at the pizza. There were five slices left. "That looks good." He pulled out a piece and offered it to Jack. "Here," he said.

Jack didn't move, still staring at the TV.

"Hey." Bobby nudged him.

Jack turned his head and glanced down at the pizza. He reluctantly took it, wishing it looked more appetizing than it did. He sighed.

Bobby grabbed his own slice and took a huge bite. "Thanks, Angel," he said, mumbled through his mouthful.

"Sure," Angel said as he sank back down into his couch. "What'd they say at the hospital? Did they laugh at you, Jack?"

Jack looked at him with a scowl. "Fuck you."

"Does that mean they did?" Angel looked at Bobby. "Bobby, did they laugh at him? That would be great."

"Ang, they don't laugh at you when you come into the ER," Bobby said, rolling his eyes.

"Even when it's something so stupid?"

Part of Bobby wanted to join in on the jeering, and the other part reminded him to go easy on their little brother, whose day had already been pretty eventful. He sat back and let Angel have a moment or two of teasing Jack as the kid just remained quietly submissive. Then Bobby interrupted, shaking his head.

"Alright, Angel," he said. "Let's save it until he's out of the hospital for more than an hour, okay?"

Angel gave him an incredulous look. Bobby was always first on board to torment Jack and here he was sticking up for him. But he didn't object. Instead he just nodded. "Okay…"

"It's late," Bobby added as he took another big bite of his slice of pizza, nearly done with it. "Right, Jack?" He glanced at his brother, who was chewing slowly, as though in a trance. Jack didn't answer, so Bobby simply repeated, "It's late."

"He okay then?" Angel asked.

"Yeah," Bobby answered, finishing off the pizza crust in his hand. He reached over and tousled Jack's hair. "Right? You're okay?" Jack pushed his hand away irritably and Bobby just shrugged and reached for another slice of pizza. "More or less."

Angel glanced at the TV. "Ya'll were there a long time though, you know?"

"Yeah. They just wanted to make sure."

"I told Jerry."

"What'd he say?"

"Well, he said to call him when I knew more, but I figured it was too late, when you got home and all. Last time I called him around this hour he chewed me out for waking up the baby."

"I'll call him in the morning. Don't worry about it." Bobby paused and then gave Angel a sympathetic look. "And, uh, thanks for waking me up today… Even if… I didn't want to wake up."

Angel just shrugged. "Yeah."

Bobby shrugged as well and continued to eat. "Today was…. Well, I forgot about having a hangover at least."

"True."

"You were okay here?"

"Yeah," Angel answered. "Just bored, you know?"

"Better here than with us though. You would have been just as bored. Trust me."

"Yeah… I'd rather watch TV than wait around a hospital any day."

Bobby sighed. A moment later he looked at Jack and laughed out loud. "Angel. Look at your brother."

Angel frowned and turned his head. Then he laughed as well. Jack had fallen asleep, oblivious to their conversation. His head was tilted to the side and the half-eaten pizza in his hand was now resting across his chest, with his fingertips just touching the crust. He was out like a light. "He's stupid," Angel said.

"Yeah…" Bobby agreed, frowning at him but then reaching over to slide the piece of pizza off Jacks' chest. He tossed it back into the box before continuing to finish his own second slice. "He is. But he's still your brother."

"Whatever." Angel paused. Then he gave Bobby a knowing look. "I knew he'd get a ride out of you today. One way or another," he persisted.

"Oh, did you?" Bobby raised his eyebrows, amused by Angel's know-it-all expression. "Yeah, maybe, but c'mon… It was kind of a different circumstance."

"Regardless. He got his ride."

"Man, you heard him on the phone…" Bobby shook his head. "I was supposed to leave him there, freaking out?"

"I would've."

"No you wouldn't."

"Yeah, I would've."

Bobby shook his head. "No way you woulda woken me up if you thought it was bullshit."

"Well he asked specifically to talk to you, 'cause he knew I wouldn't do anything about it."

"Still, you're full of shit. You said yourself you thought something was wrong. It wasn't just a ride"

Angel just shrugged, and then finally conceded. "Yeah. I didn't know it'd be so dramatic."

"Dramatic is an understatement."

"How was Ma?"

"I don't know. Worried. I think she needs a day off."

Angel smiled wryly. "From us?"

Bobby smirked. "Wouldn't hurt. Whattaya think?"

"Probably not." Angel rolled his eyes despite his agreement, then yawning. "Although I don't think she'd know what to do with herself."

"Sure she would. It's called relaxing. She knows how to relax."

"I can't see Ma relaxing. You mean without us?"

"You know, Ang, there was a time before you," Bobby responded, giving him a look. "A happier, less stressful time."

"Oh like life was perfect before me? Why you blaming me? Look, I'm not the one who tried to stay awake for a million hours like a fucking moron," Angel answered.

Bobby laughed. "I'm not blaming you. I'm not blaming anybody. I'm just saying Ma's done a lot and I think she deserves us giving her some time to relax." Bobby paused. "In fact, tomorrow we should all try and give her a break."

"Tomorrow?" Angel looked at him critically. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I just think it would be nice to give her a break in some way."

"Yeah, but what's a break? We go away?"

"I don't know yet…" Bobby rubbed at his eyes. "But it's late. I'm exhausted… And you obviously are too judging by how _awake_ you were when we got back."

"Yeah…"

Bobby watched the TV for a minute and then sighed. "Okay. Well, I'm gonna put the pizza away and crawl back into the heavenly paradise that is my bed." He pushed himself up off the couch tiredly and closed the top to the pizza box. "You should do the same."

Angel nodded. "And what about him?" He indicated Jack.

"Him," Bobby echoed as he picked up the pizza box. "What do you mean, what about him…?"

"He's sleeping on the couch?"

"Looks like it." Bobby walked towards the kitchen.

Angel got up and followed him, turning off the TV as he went. "Yeah, but we're all waking up early," he objected.

"I'm not waking up early."

"I am. And Ma is. He should go upstairs."

Bobby opened the fridge door and frowned, turning towards Angel after he slid the pizza box onto a shelf. "Didn't know you cared so much."

"I don't. I just can't stand him in the morning. And in the morning, I wanna be able to watch TV without his ass on the couch."

Bobby smirked. "Fine. Then wake him up."

"You do it."

"Why?"

"Because," Angel objected. "He hasn't sleep in a million hours. I don't want to be the one responsible for interrupting his sleeping now. I can't stand him in the morning for the same reason."

"Angel…" Bobby rolled his eyes and turned back to the fridge to grab a can of soda. He opened the can and took a sip. "Come on, man... Grow up."

"He's a monster when he wakes up."

"So are you. You scared of him?" Bobby laughed. "You scared of your little brother, Angel?"

"No." Angel narrowed his eyes. "You wanna bring it to that, Bobby? Fine. I'll wake him up." He began to walk out of the kitchen.

"Angel…" Bobby began. He swallowed another gulp of soda and swiftly followed Angel out of the kitchen, turning off the light behind him. "Hey, be nice," he warned, watching Angel approach the couch where Jack still sat, deeply asleep.

Angel wasn't nice. Instead, he leaned down and grabbed Jack by the shoulders, shaking him. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "Get up, man! You're late for school!"

Jack's eyes shot open and he jumped back against the couch, startled at being shaken awake. He cringed at the loud voice and looming face he found in front of him, feeling more confused than he could remember. It took him a moment to catch his breath and then another to realize where he was.

"Angel, you heartless bastard," Bobby muttered, although with a small grin as Angel cracked up laughing and backed away from Jack, who remained there with a startled look on his face.

"What the fuck…" Jack murmured hoarsely. He rubbed his hands over his face.

"School, Jack!" Angel persisted, chuckling. "You're late."

"He's full of shit, Jack," Bobby replied, walking over slowly when Jack's face contained more confusion than he could take. Jack continued to rub his hands over his face as Bobby persisted. "It's the middle of the night, man. You can still sleep."

"Look how confused he is," Angel answered gleefully.

"Angel, you're terrible," Bobby answered.

"C'mon it's hilarious."

"Would Ma think it's hilarious?"

Angel gave him an exasperated look, rolling his eyes.

Bobby persisted, "Then it's not hilarious. He just got home from the hospital, man. Be nice."

"Since when are you such a pussy, Bobby?" Angel muttered.

Jack just sat there, resting his hands over his face for a moment before finally setting his hands on his knees, dark circles around his eyes. "It's so dark out," was all he said.

"Yeah, it's as black as Angel out there," Bobby agreed.

Angel shot him a look.

"Why…" Jack muttered and then yawned widely.

"Because. Let's all just go to bed, huh?" Bobby said, exasperated. "Jack, go upstairs. No use having you on the couch, okay?"

"But, what about school?"

"No, it's the middle of the night, I just told you," Bobby replied. "Angel's just an asshole." He watched Angel start walking out of the room. "Angel, take him upstairs."

Angel turned in the doorway and frowned. "Huh?"

"Take him upstairs."

"He can go upstairs himself."

"Angel."

"Fine," Angel groaned. He looked at the youngest on the couch and waited. "Jack, get up. Let's go upstairs. Together…. For whatever reason…. Wanna hold hands?"

"Angel, for God's sake," Bobby retorted. "Be pleasant for once. Maybe we'll be nice to you one day. He exhausted."

"Who's fault is that? I bet he still knows how to—Hey, Jack, do you still know how to get upstairs?"

Jack made a face. "Fuck off, Angel. I don't need you to go anywhere with me. I'm just gonna sleep here…" He pulled his legs up onto the couch and began to lay down, curling up.

"Bobby," Angel whined.

"I already said to just leave him there," Bobby muttered.

"But—"

"Leave it, Angel. Nobody's carrying him and he wants to sleep there."

Angel muttered under his breath. "Fine. Whatever. He doesn't want a bed, that's fine."

"Night, Ang." Bobby watched him leave shaking his head. He took another sip from his can of soda. "Jack. You want a blanket?"

Jack didn't answer. He was already out cold.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

I do want to wrap this story up soon, I'm just trying to figure out how to adequately resolve a bunch of things and how much I want to leave to be continued in another story potentially... So we'll see, but I really don't want it to drag. Not sure I'm up for 35 chapters again like A Tale of Four Brothers.

Anyway, I've been anxious to get a chapter up, so here you go. Thanks so much for the reviews, you know who you are. It's greatly appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Jack slowly opened his eyes, first coming to the gradual realization that he'd been sleeping. It felt like he'd been asleep forever; like it had been over a thousand years and yet he was still groggy.

He moved slightly, feeling the couch beneath him, and tried to stretch out his legs, pushing his sneakers into the armrest. He shifted, elbow pushing into the cushion, and focused his eyes on the room. He was for a second still in that half bliss moment of sleep before he completely settled into consciousness.

The TV was on. He watched it for a moment, closing his eyes again just briefly. He felt confused, a little disoriented. The volume on the TV was very low.

Trying to sit up, he realized there was a blanket on top of him. An old quilted comforter.

"Good morning," he heard.

Slowly he turned his head and focused on what he made out to be Bobby sitting in the other chair, slouched down with the TV controller in his hand. Bobby just stared. Jack was confused for a minute without even knowing why.

Bobby frowned at him. "What's that look? You feel okay?"

Jack resisted the urge to ask where he was, because that was becoming obvious. So instead he croaked out the next question in his mind. "What time… is it…?"

Bobby glanced at his wrist, where there was no watch. "Uh… Around three I think. Could be off… Give or take an hour."

Suddenly the time meant nothing. Jack took a deep, tired breath. "What… day is it?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow and then just laughed, shaking his head. He looked at Jack for moment and then simply laughed again. "Man…. That's the best question you've ever asked me I think. It definitely ranks up there."

Jack wasn't satisfied with that answer. He frowned.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Guess. How long do you think you've been asleep?"

Jack didn't really want to answer that question. He wasn't even sure where to start an estimate.

"You actually haven't been sleeping that long, comparatively speaking," Bobby began after watching Jack look completely confused. "Considering you have how many hours of lost sleep to catch up on…? Fifty? Sixty? Seventy?"

Jack wasn't even sure anymore.

"Man, go back to sleep…" Bobby said in exasperation. "You look like shit and your conversation isn't much better."

Jack finally sat up. He pulled the quilt around his shoulders and tried to clear his throat. "No… Later."

"Later?" Bobby echoed.

Jack nodded.

"C'mon… Why don't you go upstairs?" Bobby suggested, voice softening a little. "You know, to an actual bed?"

"No…" Jack made a face. The thought of getting off the couch and climbing upstairs was far from attractive.

"Why not?" Bobby eyed him skeptically. Then as though reading his mind, he asked, "Too much effort?"

Jack shrugged.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Pussy." Then he paused and got a sincere look on his face. "You want my bed down here?"

"No."

"I mean it though. You wanna drag yourself to a real mattress, you go right ahead."

Jack shook his head and then leaned his head back against the couch cushion. "No."

"Sleep, man. It's your day to do nothing but sleep all day. Don't always get those."

"Is it really only tomorrow?"

"Huh?" Bobby frowned and then thought about it. "Oh… You mean it's only been a day? Yeah, you got home last night." He scratched his head and looked at the TV for a minute. "Did the TV wake you?" Bobby glanced at him again.

"No."

"Okay good."

"Where's Evelyn?"

"Ma's at work."

Jack nodded slowly.

"You hungry?" Bobby asked, trying to decipher the look on his brother's face. He still looked exhausted. And fairly confused. When he didn't answer, he decided to just leave him alone. The only reason he was there was to watch TV, although Evelyn had hinted that she wanted him to stay home with Jack during the day. Bobby had reminded her that Jack couldn't do anything but behave while he was sleeping, but she insisted anyway.

After looking at the TV for another moment, Bobby turned back to Jack and was about to make another comment, but he noticed the kid head already fallen back asleep, slouched but still sitting relatively upright.

Bobby pushed himself up out of his chair with a sigh, dropping the remote control into his seat. He walked over towards the couch and gently shook Jack's shoulder.

Slowly, Jack's eyes flickered open and he once again frowned, looking startled for a second to see Bobby standing right above him.

"C'mon," Bobby said. "Get up. Time for real bed." He took his wrist and pulled.

"No. I'm fine…" Jack whined, growing irritated when Bobby next pulled away his comforter, allowing a chill to reach him.

"You want my bed or yours?" Bobby asked, ignoring the protest and turning away from his reach when Jack reached for his comforter, which was now bunched up under Bobby's arm. "Stop. Which one do you want?" He took Jack's arm, now more forcefully pulling him up.

The fifteen year old got up reluctantly, realizing Bobby wasn't going to let it go. As tired as he was, at least the end result would be sleep. He dragged his feet, pulling his arm out of Bobby's grasp.

Bobby just gave him a look. "Which bed, Jack?"

"I don't know."

Bobby shook his head in frustration. "Which one?"

Jack backed himself towards the couch. "Bobby…"

"No, enough with the couch, come on, Jack…" Bobby persisted. "Seriously." He gestured for him to follow. "Just go to my room, okay? It's five feet away."

"Okay."

"Okay, good." Bobby all but pushed him out of the room. "Just take your sneakers off."

* * *

When Evelyn came home from work, she found Bobby on the couch watching TV, looking to be in a daze. She walked in, dropping her purse onto the other chair. "Hey, honey."

"Hey," he answered, glancing up at her.

"How was your day?"

He shrugged. "I haven't really moved. Feeling pretty lazy, actually."

"Where's Jack?"

"No clue."

She gave him a look. "Bobby…"

"Where do you think he is?" he replied sarcastically. "Running a marathon? He's in bed."

"Bobby…" she warned. She sighed. "Was he up at all?"

"Just enough to move off the couch. He seemed a bit out of it."

"Exhausted, I'm sure."

"Yeah."

"Is Angel home yet?"

"Nope. Just little old me."

"I asked him this morning to run to the store for me after work… Do you think he'll remember?"

Bobby smirked. "Uh… Do you want the answer you _want_ to hear, or the real answer?"

"Real answer." She shook her head. "I swear, his head is in the clouds sometimes. I don't know about that boy."

"If he forgot, I'll go when he gets back," Bobby replied with a sigh. "Don't worry about it."

She raised an eyebrow. "You will?"

"Don't give me that look. Like I don't do anything around here." He shifted under her stare. "Plus we're out of beer. And hotdogs."

"Hotdogs, Bobby?"

"Look. I have a different food pyramid that I follow, alright? But like I said, if Ang forgets, then I'll go. I need to get off the couch anyway."

She smirked, walking over to take a seat beside him on the couch. "Sure, honey. Thanks."

"Are you gonna wake Jack up for dinner?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. He needs to eat. Did he have lunch today?"

"Unless he was sleepwalking while I blinked, I'm going to guess no…"

"Bobby…"

"Was I supposed to make sure he ate too? Besides, I didn't want to wake him up. In fact, the one time I saw him wake up, he then fell asleep again mid-conversation with me. I didn't know I was that boring."

She didn't answer.

"So how was work?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Fine…" she said with a sigh. "We're dealing with a little boy. He's seven. Autistic. They haven't put him in a group home, and… They're starting to consider it, but I think it's a bad idea."

Bobby paused. "Sometimes I think Jack's autistic."

"Bobby, that's a terrible thing to say about your brother," she replied, frowning at him.

"I don't mean it in a terrible way… I just mean it in the way that he's impossible to talk to."

She shook her head. "Still terrible the way you're intending it, Bobby."

He made a face. "Well, I know what I mean by it. I don't mean to be politically incorrect or anything, I just…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

Bobby felt like he needed to explain himself more, but before he had the chance, he heard the front door open. Within a minute, Angel came through the doorway and grinned at them on the couch.

"Hey, hey, hey," he greeted. "What's up?"

Evelyn smiled back at him. "Hello, sweetheart…"

"Forget something, dipstick?" Bobby asked his brother, noticing his empty arms before glancing back at the TV briefly.

"Forget something?" Angel echoed. "Like what?"

Bobby smirked. "Groceries ring a bell?"

Angel closed his eyes briefly. "Shit." He shook his head and looked at Evelyn. "Sorry, Ma… After work I completely forgot."

"We thought you would," Bobby replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Bobby…" Evelyn rolled her eyes. "It's not a problem, Angel. Don't worry about it."

"I even wrote it on my hand." Angel lifted his hand to show them. "See?"

"It's okay."

"I can go now."

"Nah, chill, I will," Bobby said. "I already promised."

"I'll come too, though," Angel answered.

"Alright…" Bobby shrugged, not sure why Angel would want to go, but not arguing.

"You remember what I asked for?" Evelyn asked him.

Angel nodded. "More or less."

"More or less?" She laughed. "Honey, go inside and get a pad of paper. I'll write it down for you."

* * *

In the car, Bobby soon realized why Angel had wanted to come along.

"So what's really up with Jack?" Angel asked as they were just about a block away from their house.

"Huh?" Bobby frowned.

Angel turned down the radio a little bit, clearing his throat. "Well, I'm not always the first to know about things, obviously… But it's not like that makes me oblivious to there being something going on."

"Um, basically he hasn't slept for a while… And if you haven't figured that out, then something might be up with you…"

"Bobby, stop with the sarcasm for like five minutes."

Bobby gripped the steering wheel, continuing to frown. "Well, okay, I just don't really know what type of answer you're looking for."

"I overheard you and Ma talking a few times about Jack. And I know something else is going on with him."

"Something else like what?"

"I don't know, Bobby," Angel answered in exasperation. "Don't you get that I'm waiting for you to answer that?"

Bobby paused, struggling internally as to whether to truthfully answer with everything he knew or to try to be as guarded as possible. He didn't even really know the truth, so the latter seemed like such a better tactic. It's not that he didn't want to tell Angel, he just wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm his brother too," Angel objected, speaking up again after a moment of silence between them. "You know that, right?" He shook his head. "God…"

"What's that supposed to mean. Of course he's your brother."

"But I'm not privy to any kind of information. Ever since you went away, it's like you come back and have these private conversations with Mom like you're that much better than us or you know that much more, and I have like no clue."

"Okay, you're jumping all over the place."

"Then just answer my first question. What's going on with Jack, Bobby?"

"In what way? I mean we brought him back from the ER just last night and I don't see how much more there is to explain than that."

"You've always done this. You act like Jack is your brother, and your brother only. You've always been like this. Like you're protecting him from something, or someone. I don't know why anybody else can't know about him."

"I do not…" Bobby answered, rolling his eyes. "Look, Ang… You don't have to take everything so personally. Yeah, I talk to Ma privately sometimes. That's just the relationship we've gotten into. She confides in me sometimes… I… I don't know…"

"And Jack?"

Bobby made a face. "What about him? You know I'm protective of him… I'm just not… I won't pretend like I'm not protective. So what? He grew on me. And it just stuck. But I don't feel like it's any different for you."

"It is different."

"What? What's different?"

"Forget it," Angel answered, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You know, I came, because I thought we could talk… But obviously we can't… So you can just drop me at the end of the block here because I don't really feel like going grocery shopping. Or talking in circles."

"Angel…" Bobby took one hand off the wheel and reached over to slap Angel lightly in the shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous. I just don't know what we're talking about."

"Dude, forget it. Just stop at the—" Angel cut himself off as Bobby barely stopped at the corner stop sign and continued down the street. "Bobby."

Bobby shook his head. "Yeah, did you really think I was gonna do that, and just give up?"

Angel didn't respond.

Gripping both hands on the steering wheel, Bobby began to realize that the ride to the grocery store was not going to be long enough to handle this conversation. "Listen, Ang…" he began. "Just tell me what you want to talk about."

"I just wanted to know what was actually going on with Jack," Angel answered. "Other than the sleep thing."

"Right. And we can talk about that. I just don't want you doing this whole why don't I treat you like Jack bullshit."

"Oh, please… I'm not."

"Really? Because that's what feels like is coming."

"Okay, whatever, then…" Angel muttered.

"No, don't shrug it off… If you want to have that conversation, then let's have that conversation." Bobby knew his voice was kind of stiff when he said it, but he tried to at least sound welcome to the discussion, since he had decided to try to be.

"Oh, Bobby, come on…" Angel rolled his eyes.

"What? It's just every time we walk about something even slightly involving Jackie, it comes down to this whole stupid jealousy thing like you're still kids."

"I'm not jealous of him," Angel answered. "Never was. All I'm saying is that you and Ma talk about things and act like it's this huge secret that you'd never dare talk about in front of me. So I was just asking what's going on, and that's all I was asking."

"We don't try to talk like you're not around, man. You just never act like you give a shit about the stuff we talk about… Besides, I'm home how often? So how many times are you talking, like it's always when in reality it's like a handful of times?"

"It's enough times. Isn't every time your home enough times?"

"How often do you talk to Jackie, Angel?"

"Enough."

"How often's that?"

"Every day."

"Well, how often do you actually have a conversation with him?" Bobby rephrased his question.

Angel made a face. "What makes a conversation?"

"More than hi, yeah, whatever, bye. You know. An actual conversation."

"Well, then I don't know. Jack doesn't talk much." Angel glanced at him. "Is this where you're going to do your 'yeah, well he talks to me' bullshit?" he asked, mimicking Bobby's voice.

"My point is you don't even try. But you're just as hard to talk to as him, and we're talking right now. So if you want to know why you don't know what's going on, maybe you should just try to find out."

"Look, can we skip all this and you just tell me what's going on?"

"Well, I'm just saying you bitch about me knowing what's going on with him or paying attention to him, and—"

"I wasn't bitching about that, Bobby. You just assumed I would. If you wanna baby him his whole life like Ma then that's fine. I'm over it."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Alright… There you go. Fuck it..."

"Just tell me what else is wrong with him, Bobby."

"Nothing's wrong with him."

"Thanks, _Evelyn_," Angel responded sarcastically. "Nothing's wrong with _anybody_, right? Yeah… Sure…"

"Ang…"

"Seriously… Or how about I just ask Jack what's up with him… That'll be our conversation."

"Sure. Do it."

Angel glanced at him.

Bobby smirked. "But you want me to tell you."

"Yeah," Angel admitted.

Bobby sighed. They were just down the street from the store at this point. He looked briefly over at his brother, who looked back at him with a frown.

"What, Bobby?" Angel asked in exasperation.

"I'm just trying to figure out how to bring it up to you in the time in takes to go the rest of the sixty seconds to the store," Bobby replied earnestly.

"Fine, then give me a sixty second summary."

"Angel, it's more than a sixty second thing, that's all."

Angel shrugged. "Well, I don't know. Then make it a 'to be continued' explanation."

Bobby frowned.

"Is something really wrong with him?" Angel asked. "Or is this one of those, Jack shouldn't be smoking thing, or Jack shouldn't do drugs thing, or Jack shouldn't skip class thing. Is he just doing something else now?"

"Well, not exactly like that."

"What is it then?"

"Hard to say right now, because he hasn't really said explained to any of us yet. But have you noticed anything about his arms?"

"His arms?" Angel echoed. Then he paused. "Are you talking about the lighter thing?"

"What lighter thing?"

"You know. How he's burned himself with his lighter."

Bobby turned his head to stare at him and then forced his eyes back on the road. "Why do you say that like it's nothing?"

"Is that what you were gonna tell me? He's been doing that for like a month or so now."

"Angel."

Angel frowned at Bobby's tone. "What, man? Why you looking at me like that?"

"Because, Angel. Why haven't you ever mentioned this before?"

"Didn't think it was that big a deal. Is that really what this is all about?"

"Your little brother burning himself isn't a big deal?"

Angel just laughed. "Bobby, he's not that little."

Bobby took his hand off the wheel to this time punch Angel in the shoulder. "Fuck you."

"What?" Angel exclaimed, surprised at his exasperation.

"I can't understand you sometimes, that's all." Bobby focused on his driving as he spoke through his teeth clenched together. He eyed the grocery store up ahead and pulled into its parking lot.

"Why?" Angel answered. "Are you mad at me now?"

"No."

"No? Well that doesn't sound like no. What'd I do?"

Bobby pulled into a space and roughly put the car in park. He rolled his eyes at Angel. "Oh, I don't know. I've only been worried about why Jack's burning holes in his arm and here you are, and you knew about it and think it's nothing."

"Why wouldn't it be nothing? And there's no holes in him, man."

"How is burning yourself nothing?"

Angel shrugged. "I even mentioned it to him and he acted like it was no big deal."

"It's like the blind leading the visibly challenged," Bobby muttered. "Get out of the car." He pushed open his own door and slammed it behind him, rolling his eyes towards the sky. This was more complicated than he thought. "Let's just go grocery shopping."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Exhausted towards the end of this chapter... So let me know what you think. Thanks for the kind reviews so far!

* * *

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**Chapter 13**

"You think Ma's mad at me?" Angel asked.

There was no reply and he turned away from the cereals in front of him to look at his brother. Bobby was staring at a box of Applejacks with a distracted look in his eye and a furrowed brow.

"Bobby," Angel insisted.

Bobby finally turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "For what?"

Angel was frustrated. Bobby had obviously heard his question, and had really just chosen not to answer. That was infuriating. "For forgetting. The groceries."

"No. There's more important things."

"Yeah, but I've forgotten like a hundred things this week."

Bobby shrugged. "Well, that's you. We're all used to that."

Even if it were kind of true, Angel scowled. "Whatever." He turned back towards the cereals. "What kind do you want?"

Bobby shrugged. "I'm not here for more than the rest of the week probably. Get what you want."

"Really?" Angel turned again and eyed him carefully.

"Really what?" Bobby muttered. "Just get what you want."

"You only staying the rest of the week? That's just a few more days."

"What'd you think, I was here forever?"

"Well, I thought with Jack and all…"

"No." Bobby shook his head. "He's fine."

Angel shrugged, silent, but his expression spoke clearly.

A moment of silence passed between them as Bobby leaned his weight against the shopping cart he'd been pushing. Angel tossed a box of cereal into it.

"And Angel," Bobby began, watching his brother start to walk down the aisle. "What made you think it was a good idea to not tell anybody… When you knew Jackie was hurting himself?"

"Are you gonna start this again…?" Angel sighed.

"Yes, I'm gonna start this again." Bobby sent him a look.

Angel continued to walk down the aisle. "It's not a big deal."

"Angel," Bobby persisted, pushing their shopping cart forward and walking with it irritably. "C'mon, man. Really. Tell me you didn't think about it for just five seconds and realize something might be wrong."

"Bro, please…" Angel objected. He turned the corner and walked down towards the frozen food aisle.

"C'mon, man," Bobby persisted. "Will you stop it and walk with me? Why you walking away?"

"Because," Angel replied. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, watching Bobby approach him with a frown. "I don't like being at the grocery store."

Bobby frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because."

"Too domestic for your punk ass?" Bobby replied. When Angel turned from him again and continued down towards the next aisle, Bobby sighed and shoved the shopping cart forward, increasing his pace. He hated the grocery store too. "Angel, man. Let's talk."

"No," Angel persisted, glancing at Bobby as he caught up to him. "Because you're just going to become this Jack advocate again. I didn't do anything. I'm not the one that burned him. And he just started doing it, and I only saw him once, and that was that."

"Okay."

Angel let out a deep breath and looked at Bobby again. "That's all you say? Okay?"

"Okay," Bobby repeated. "Dude, I don't want to fight about it. I'm just worried about him."

"Yeah." Angel walked away again.

"Angel…" Bobby reached out and grabbed his brother's arm, yanking him towards him. "You wanna talk somewhere and forget this groceries thing? Because we can."

Angel shook his head. He didn't want to have to look Bobby in the eye. And walking around the store provided the perfect opportunity to have this inevitable talk while not doing just that.

"Okay." Bobby patted Angel on the chest. "Dude. What's with you and Jack? Why do you get like this when I wanna talk about him?"

Angel shook his head, studying the dirty wheels of the shopping cart. "Nothing. We live our own lives. Don't know why we gotta talk about him."

"Because something's wrong."

"Right." Angel didn't sound affected.

"He's your brother. You're his brother. You guys have to remember that."

Angel nodded. "I never said otherwise."

"Yeah. Still, Angel. All you've got is your brothers, you remember that."

"Bobby," Angel insisted. "I didn't say otherwise."

"Okay."

"Besides, I told him he was crazy," Angel said, looking at Bobby for just a second before turning to watch a girl about fifteen feet away. "For how he burned himself. He just laughed. So I figured, whatever. He always wants to try to be crazy."

"Angel, you gotta talk to him when—"

"Talk to him? What, when he does stuff like that? I talk to him. I go, hey, Jack, you wanna smoke up? And he usually says yes. So we'll fucking get high. And the drama's over. We have a great relationship."

Bobby slapped Angel upside the head without even thinking.

"Ow…" Angel complained, glaring at Bobby. "What the _fuck_, man?"

"What the fuck?" Bobby echoed. He cuffed Angel again, not as hard this time. "Don't tell me you smoke up your _fifteen _year old brother."

Angel scowled and rubbed at his head. "Dude. Whatcha so protective of him for? What if I tell you he smokes me up? Fuck you."

"Well, then I'll deal with him later."

"Whatever. You won't." Angel took a deep breath.

"Don't encourage him."

"You don't _discourage _him though."

"It's different."

"You know he smokes." Angel looked at him.

"Angel… That's not the point."

"And you know sometimes I do."

Bobby sighed.

"I'm not his keeper. He's not mine. You wanna talk, I'm talking. He does things that are worse than lighting his lighter. So that's why I never said anything. We don't tell Ma about every little thing we do. That's at least one thing we understand about each other."

"Angel. It's not a little thing."

"Bobby, let's just get what we need and go home." Angel froze as he felt Bobby's hand on his shoulder. Of course it wouldn't be that easy to end the conversation. He swallowed and turned to look at him. "What?"

"Don't be like that with me."

"Alright."

"I mean it," Bobby persisted.

"Alright."

"Angel."

Angel studied Bobby. "Yeah."

"You didn't know it was a big deal, fine," Bobby said. "But it is. Okay? Can you just understand that, and we can try to figure it out?"

"Okay. Why?"

"Does Mom beating herself up about it mean anything to you? Make it seem anymore important?"

Angel paused. "Why?"

"Because," Bobby sighed. "He's _burning _himself, Angel. How that could ever seem like _nothing _to you is kind of surprising to me."

Angel simply blinked. "I don't know." He shrugged. "What's Mom worried about? He's fine."

"Did he ever tell you why?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know. I figured it's like a cheap thrill kind of thing. But he never said that."

Bobby leaned against the shopping cart. "You two talk more than I think, don't you?"

Angel shrugged again.

"He's a good kid, Angel. I'm not gonna be angry."

"I know you won't."

"Not at you either."

Angel nodded.

"So…?" Bobby asked.

"I got nothing to say," Angel answered. "Seriously. We don't really talk. Least not about his reasons for doing anything."

"Neither of you explain anything," Bobby sighed. "Neither of you. You're impossible. Both of you."

Angel just made a face. "Bobby."

"You guys never tell me anything. I come back, and you both have drama, and neither of you want to say anything."

"C'mon, Bobby."

"Seriously. No matter how many times I save your ass, and his, neither of you tell me anything."

"Yeah, we do."

"Nothing important."

"Dude, as far as I can tell, he tells you everything."

"Yeah." Bobby rolled his eyes. "Right."

Angel paused. "Did you tell him you're leaving in just a few days?"

"He knows I'm leaving."

"Are you sure? Does he know when?"

Bobby shrugged. "Shouldn't be a surprise."

"You know how he gets when you leave. He can't handle things changing, Bobby. And people going in and out."

"Since when do you care what he feels like?"

Angel made a face. "Don't be like that."

Bobby shook his head. "He can handle me leaving."

"You say that because you're not here to see him when you've left. He gets in this funk anytime someone goes."

Bobby shrugged. "As flattering as that is, he knew I wasn't coming home for good."

"That's kinda selfish."

"Me?" Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Selfish of me?"

"Yeah…" Angel said slowly. "You didn't tell him. And now he's messed up and you're just gonna go."

"Didn't tell him what?" Bobby persisted. "Everyone knows I was home just a little bit."

"You didn't tell me."

Bobby gave him a look. "Angel. How long you think I was staying?"

Angel shrugged. "I dunno. A little longer."

Bobby shook his head. "The end of this week. Maybe a little more. That's it."

His younger brother shrugged, a disappointed look on his face. "Alright. Whatever. It's your plans. Just tell Jack before you leave, okay?"

"Course I will. I've never just left without telling him."

Angel shrugged again.

Bobby frowned. "Have I?"

"No," Angel admitted. "It's just not always expected."

"I've always told you. Both of you," Bobby insisted.

Angel nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"You just saying that?"

"No."

"Because," Bobby persisted. "I've never left you. Either of you. Ever." He eyed Angel carefully. "You know that."

Angel nodded. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Does he think that too?"

"I…. I don't know."

"Do you really not know, or you just don't want me to get upset?"

"I really don't know," Angel insisted, rolling his eyes at Bobby.

"Well, it's a big deal otherwise. Not that there's not already something that's a huge deal."

"Bobby, you're insane."

"No, Ang, it's serious… Is it a big deal?"

"Bobby… NO. No, it's not a big deal."

"Alright. I'll believe you for now." Bobby paused. "Where do you buy it from?"

"Huh?"

"When you smoke. Where do you get it from?"

Angel gave him a look, perturbed they were back on that subject.

"Who, Angel?" Bobby insisted.

"I don't know. Here and there."

"Anyone I know?"

Angel eyed him suspiciously. "No."

"Because if—"

"Ask Jack. He usually buys." Angel shook his head. "Besides, it's harmless."

"Why do you let him buy?"

Angel shrugged. "I buy sometimes."

"Angel, he's fifteen, why are you—"

"He's his own person."

"Yeah, but sometimes you gotta look out for people. Especially when that person's your little brother."

"Bobby, as much as he acts it, he's no baby."

"Still, don't encourage stupid things, how about that?"

Angel muttered under his breath. Then he looked up at Bobby with a frown on his face. "Hey. Uh, by the way, should it come up… I told Ma I don't smoke that stuff anymore. I don't know if she knows about Jack."

"Oh, Angel…" Bobby rolled his eyes. "I bet she knows anyway. She might as well be a mind reader."

"No, I swore to her…" Angel replied slowly. "She asked me about it not long ago."

"Well, then she knew you were lying. And that's kinda worse."

"No, I think she bought it."

"You can't be serious."

Angel shrugged. "It seemed like she bought it. So I'm just saying… She brings it up or asks you or whatever, just say you have no idea or something. She hates the idea of it."

"She just hates the idea that it's illegal… And you don't have much luck with not getting caught doing things. Well, it's more than that, but…"

"Yeah, well, it's really not a big deal. Almost everyone I know smokes."

"Angel, that's not—" Bobby cut himself off. "You know what… Let's just not bother… I'm not gonna fight you now about it."

"Yeah, well, good I guess. Just don't bring it up to Ma."

"What else does Jack do?"

Angel looked puzzled. "Do? What's that mean?"

"I know he smokes. What else does he do?"

"Again, I'm not his keeper."

"Angel, I'm trying to figure out what goes on with him. And since you knew about him and… And the burning… I just want to know what else there might be."

"If he wants you to know then he'll tell you himself."

"Angel."

"Seriously. Since when does everyone squeal on everybody in this family?"

"So there is something else?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't think so," Angel admitted. "Far as I know I guess. I don't really know what you're looking for. What's he do? I mean, you already know what he does. A little weed. I know sometimes some pills… Nothing serious."

"Why's he always fuck himself up…?" Bobby muttered.

Angel shrugged. "He doesn't really. He's just your average teenager."

Bobby shook his head but didn't bother to disagree. He didn't feel like arguing with Angel or discussing their varying degrees of beliefs about right and wrong. He wanted simply to find out what else was going on with Jack.

"Do you have Ma's list?" Bobby asked. "For the rest of the stuff we're supposed to get?"

Angel nodded, relieved to be back to the task at hand. "Yeah. We're almost done."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At home, Bobby left Angel in the kitchen to unpack the groceries. Angel took a deep breath and rolled his eyes when Bobby set his bags on the counter and said he wanted to check on Jack and that Angel could put everything away, but there was nothing he could really say. Ma was standing right there by the stove, and Angel didn't feel like bitching in front of her about the groceries he'd forgotten to get, and at the same time Bobby was giving him that look that could only be described as Bobby. It was the look you didn't quite fight.

So with a sigh, Angel turned to putting away the groceries and Bobby walked out of the kitchen.

Slowly, Bobby pushed the door to his bedroom open, wincing as it creaked just slightly. He slipped into the darkened room and eyed his bed, where Jack was sprawled flat on his stomach, looking like he had simply dragged himself into the room, collapsed on the bed, and fallen back asleep instantly.

He had no intention of waking Jack, but he approached the bed anyway, eyeing the sneakers that Jack had neglected to take off before digging them into his comforter. He reached down and tried to undo the laces of the one closest to him, but it was slightly more difficult to be gentle with Jack lying on his belly, which made the bottom soles of the sneakers face up.

Jack stirred a little bit and Bobby paused. He studied his face for a moment though and found him still peacefully asleep. He resumed getting the sneakers off, managing to loosen the laces enough to pull one off. With a bit more of a reach, he did the same with the other.

Leaving the sneakers on the floor, Bobby looked at his brother for one more moment before leaving his room, satisfied he was still out cold, and closing the door behind him.

Next he walked through the family room, hearing Angel and Evelyn talking in the kitchen, and headed for the stairs. He took two at a time and reached the landing within several seconds.

Jack's bedroom door was ajar.

Bobby entered slowly, feeling a little bit weird about sneaking around like this. He'd been in this room so many times before, but never purposefully without Jack.

He'd been in there _with_ Jack plenty of times. To talk to him, to wake him up, to force him to sleep, to look for him, or for a million other reasons.

Never had he come in a hundred percent sure Jack wasn't there. Sometimes he would _think_ Jack wasn't in there but then find him, hidden somewhere. Jack always used to hide, sometimes out of a senseless fear, and sometimes for seemingly no reason at all.

He still hid parts of himself, but Jack was now too big to hide like he used to.

First, Bobby just stood there in the middle of the room and looked around. It was a typical fifteen year old's room, with clothes on the floor, and a couple plates on the dresser, an unmade bed, some unopened schoolbooks on the ground, and a variety of other disorganizations.

The closet door was open and he walked over, looking in there first. He stared at the shirts hanging there, most wrinkled, and then down at the floor at more dirty laundry and a couple pairs of shoes. He eyed a Zeppelin shirt that Jack would wear for days at a time and sighed.

Bobby wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. He just had this urge to find something. Some reason. Some sign of something.

The dresser was next. He opened the top drawer, looking in at the socks and boxers with some apathy and some interest. He was starting to think he wouldn't find anything at all, even though he hadn't really even looked yet. He pushed a few socks aside and saw nothing.

The other drawers were filled with random clothing as well. He found ten dollars in the back pocket of a pair of jeans and took it, slipping it into his own pocket. Jack had stolen money from him, he would return the favor.

He moved onto the night table by Jack's bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as he pulled open its drawer.

He picked up a bottle of Tylenol sitting next to a flashlight and a pen, and shook it slightly, hearing pills rattle inside. He uncapped it and looked in at the pills, only half surprised to find a variety of different colored pills instead of the typical Tylenol one might expect in a Tylenol bottle.

He squinted in at the ones at the top, seeing letters and numbers on them. Random prescription pills.

He wasn't sure exactly how to feel about it, considering he already knew that Jack took random things. It was more the reason for it that he needed to know. There was some curiosity as to where he got this stuff, but Bobby was no stranger himself to the variety of things you could find in a high school hallway or bathroom.

He put the cap back on the bottle and slid it into his pocket with a frown. He considered leaving it there, but felt more comfortable just taking it.

Picking up a small book that was in the back of the drawer, he flipped it open. Initially, he was more impressed than anything else to find the pages hollowed out in the middle, creating a little concave section, in which a small bag fit.

Bobby picked up the bag, eyeing the clumps of green leaves and rolling his eyes at the distinctive odor coming from the bag as he raised it towards his nose.

"Nice, Jack," he said under his breath. He dropped the hollowed out book back into the drawer and slid the bag into his pocket. "Clever and stupid."

He glanced behind himself on the bed as he sat up. There was a pack of cigarettes on the shelf. Next to it was small, thin pack of something. He reached for it and eyed the brand and title on it. Rolling papers. Cherry flavored.

"Cherry…" Bobby smirked. "Fucking fairy."

He wasn't exactly sure why he wasn't more mad. Part of his mind told him he should go downstairs, wake up Jack, and beat his ass. But he hadn't learned anything in the past ten minutes that he didn't already know about or suspect. And confirming his beliefs didn't really change anything or make him feel any different. Getting angry now would probably only get him tears from Jack, and definitely not answers. He definitely wasn't in the mood for tears. And besides, the kid needed to sleep.

He eyed Jack's guitar, leaning against the wall in the corner, as he got up off the bed. Jack's little passion.

He heard someone coming up the stairs and froze. He looked so guilty and realized it immediately. Snooping around Jack's room like this… He walked towards the doorway and found himself face to face with Evelyn.

"I thought I heard you come upstairs," she said, giving him a frown. "Dinner's almost ready, okay?"

He nodded, leaning against the doorway. He felt as though should Evelyn glance down she could see straight through into his pockets into the contraband he'd discovered. "Sure."

Then she asked the inevitable. "What are you doing in Jack's room, honey?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Well, he's in my room, so I, uh…" He trailed off as she got a skeptical look on her face. "He owed me money. From yesterday before school. So… Remember how he—"

"What are you snooping for?"

"I'm not snooping," he objected.

"Bobby…"

"Do you ever snoop?"

"What are you doing?" she asked with a sigh. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing. My twenty bucks." He pushed away from the doorway. "So dinner? Want me to set the table?"

"Honey…" She paused. "Are you upset about something? What'd you find?"

Bobby shook his head. He would have the real conversation with her another time. "Lots of porn, Ma. Gay porn. And condoms." He walked around her and headed back down the stairs.

"Bobby, you stop with jokes like that," she called after him as he walked down the stairs. She frowned at Jack's now empty room and sighed. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" He stopped halfway down the stairwell and looked up at her.

"Wake him up for dinner."

"Alright."

Bobby shook his head the rest of the way down the stairs, reminding himself of how much of an idiot he was. He made is way back across the family room and to his own bedroom with a sigh, opening the door not so quietly this time. After all, the point was to wake him up.

He flipped on the light switch and walked over to the bed. Jack was in the same exact sprawled out position he'd left him in before.

"Hey, Jack." He neared the bed and when close enough, raised his hand to bring a loud slap down across the seat of Jack's jeans. "Wake up." He did it again. "Rise and shine."

With a grunt, Jack rolled over, squinting up at Bobby with a scowl. "Wha…"

"Dinner."

"Dinner?" Jack echoed, frowning.

"Yeah, sleepy. Dinner. C'mon."

Jack yawned and looked around him, confused. "Why am I… It's your room…"

"Yeah. It'll come back to you." Bobby patted his leg. "Sit up."

Slowly, Jack edged himself up, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"Well, Ma wants to feed you anyway." Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed. He studied his brother for a moment. "How you feel?"

Jack shrugged. "I need a smoke…" he said tiredly.

They were quiet for a minute, and Bobby felt like Jack would fall asleep again any minute. He studied his brother and realized how mysterious and complicated he was, and finally cracked, taking a deep breath. "Okay, this is the total wrong time to do this, but I need to do it."

Jack eyed him nervously. "Huh?"

Bobby hesitated, but then reached into his pocket, continuing his trend of being an idiot and having poor timing, and pulled out what he'd found in Jack's room, dropping it on the bed between them.

There was no way he could have simply sat at the kitchen table with it in his pockets without thinking about it constantly.

Jack stared at it for a moment. At the small bag of weed and the bottle of 'Tylenol'. "What's that…?"

"You wanna lie?"

"Lie about what?."

"Why are you acting like you have no idea?"

Jack frowned, pressing his lips together nervously. He suddenly felt a pang of something, but he couldn't place what. "It's not…"

"Not yours? But it is. And I'm sure there's more," Bobby persisted. "Look at me."

Jack shook his head.

"Jack." Bobby patted Jack's leg again, but this time Jack stiffened. "Look at me."

Jack swallowed, shaking his head again. "Don't do this."

"Am I yelling?" Bobby asked. "No. I'm not even mad. Why won't you look at me."

Jack rubbed at his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "I can't do this now."

"We don't have to do anything now." Bobby sighed. "I want you to tell me that we'll talk about this—" He gestured at the drugs, "—and this." He reached out and grabbed Jack's arm, twisting it to reveal his scarred skin again. "Can't you just tell me we can talk? Make me feel better?"

"Why am I in your room?" Jack asked, voice shaking a bit.

"Because," Bobby answered softly. "You were tired and downstairs."

"That was yesterday."

"No, it was earlier today."

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not." Bobby pulled at Jack's arm again, trying to pull him towards him, but Jack resisted. "Why can't I touch you, Jack? Aren't we beyond that?"

"Don't." Jack wrenched his arm away, continuing to stare at the bag and bottle on the bed. "Were you in my room?"

"Yeah," Bobby admitted.

"Why?" Finally Jack looked up, a flash of sparkling eyes, and then away again.

"Because," Bobby replied. "Besides, you've gone through my room."

"No." Jack shook his head.

"Right." Bobby rolled his eyes. "At least I'm admitting it."

Jack was quiet.

"My point is…" Bobby persisted slowly, "…and I do have a point. You don't need to talk to me. You can talk to Mom. You can talk to somebody else. But you have to control yourself." He watched Jack stifle another yawn and sighed. "This is a terrible time to bring it up. You're still exhausted. It's just… I just needed to. Don't fuck yourself up for no reason. I'm not coming home to see you do that."

Jack pulled the pillow from the bed onto his lap, hugging it gently against his chest. He wanted to go back to sleep. Forever.

Bobby thought back on his conversation with Angel, struggling to put sense to his words. "Jackie. We can drop it for now. But I have another question."

Jack glanced at him.

"Do you…" Bobby started slowly, "…feel like I ever just leave?"

Jack shrugged.

"Answer," Bobby insisted. He shifted closer to his brother.

"You always leave," Jack answered. "Eventually."

"I've always told you though. When I'm leaving and how long I'm staying? I've never just left without that."

"I don't remember."

"No, it's important to me to know." When Jack didn't answer, Bobby continued. "For instance, I'm probably only in town for a couple more days."

Jack's eyes flashed up at him, a look of surprise on his face, and then it was gone, replaced with an unclear sulk. "Okay."

Bobby paused, taken back by Jack's response just like he had been by Angel's. "Is that too soon?"

"Whenever you need to go," Jack responded in his typically distracted tone. "Then go. I guess."

"You want me to stay longer?"

"No. Whatever."

"No? Okay." Bobby exhaled. "Fine. I won't. You want me to leave tomorrow? What if I decide to do that instead?"

Jack looked up at him and then his chin quivered a little bit. "No… Bobby, don't." His voice trembled just slightly. "Are you?"

"No. I won't," Bobby answered.

Jack nodded, breathing out deeply and hugging the pillow closer to his chest.

A moment of silence passed but then there was a knock at the door. Bobby looked up and saw Angel standing there.

"Dinner," Angel said.

Bobby nodded, watching Angel disappear and getting up from the bed. He took the pills and baggy from the bed and opened his own nightstand drawer, dropping it in there.

"Bobby… Would you wanna smoke it…?" Jack asked hesitantly. "Maybe?"

"I'm not really a big fan of it," Bobby answered. "Let's go eat."

"Angels says you used to."

"Don't listen to Angel, you dumbass." Bobby gestured him off the bed. "C'mon."

Jack slid off the bed slowly, and Bobby started for the door. Jack hesitated, standing close to the nightstand and looking at the drawer, tempted. He wondered if Bobby had taken it away from him permanently.

"Jack," Bobby said sharply.

Jack nearly jumped at the break in his thoughts and glanced back at Bobby in the doorway.

"Don't," Bobby insisted. "Come on."

Jack acquiesced and followed him out the door.

He still felt like he was part of the Twilight Zone…

oooooooooooooooo


	14. Chapter 14

**I definitely have NOT forgotten about this story and I've been so anxious to update it! Thanks so much for the reviews, especially the recent ones that I haven't yet been able to personally reply to. They really mean so much to me and each one made me push myself into finishing this chapter and getting it up on the site. I earnestly mean it when I say I hope to have more up very soon!! This baby needs to get done!!! Any suggestions, comments, questions, criticisms, etc are welcomed.**

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**Chapter 14**

Jack wasn't sure whether his lack of appetite during dinner was due to his remaining tiredness or the overwhelming sense of anxiety that existed due to Bobby and his ill timed conversation about illegal habits. To feel better, Jack told himself he hadn't really admitted to anything yet, but somehow that didn't help.

Conversation, even the little there was, went over his head during the roughly thirty minutes he spent sitting there. And like his appetite, he wasn't exactly sure what to blame his attention deficit on. Was it worry? Fear? Tiredness? He did feel slightly better that there were options for blame outside himself.

The worst part was that regardless of the consequences it might have, Jack wanted back what Bobby had taken from his room. If it were possible, he just wanted to avoid the conversation and confrontation and simply have his stuff back.

He soon learned it wouldn't be that easy when after dinner he started back towards Bobby's room. Bobby wasn't dumb and suspiciously asked, "Where are you going?"

Jack turned and looked at him. "Huh?" He frowned like he didn't have the slightest idea what Bobby wanted.

"Where are you going?" the man repeated.

Jack could hear Evelyn in the kitchen putting dishes in the sink. He paused, wondering if pretending he wanted to sleep in there was believable.

He decided it wasn't.

"No where," he replied instead, heading towards the couch in the living room instead, developing his plan. He sensed Bobby following him and wasn't surprised when he sat down beside him.

"Listen," Bobby began. "You sometimes really underestimate my intelligence. You're not getting it back."

"Getting what back?" Jack knew he sounded dumb as a fox.

"Uh-huh." Bobby smirked. "I bet… You have no idea. Right…" He reached for the controller and flipped on the TV. Jack took that as a good sign considering Bobby normally turned _off _the TV when he wanted to talk. But then Bobby deceived him when he added, "And we're going to talk about it."

"Not now."

"Oh, so you do know what I'm talking about?"

"No. I just don't want to talk right now."

"Because you talked so much during dinner."

Jack shrugged. He'd maybe said two words during dinner. Bobby's sarcasm did nothing to him.

Bobby sighed. "C'mon, Jackie…"

"You're leaving in a few days anyway," Jack said.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just… you're going through all my stuff and everything, but I'm not even gonna care anymore because in a few days you'll be outta here again."

"I'm not just leaving—and it's not like I just went through your stuff."

"Then what did you do? What do you call going through my room then? Is there a euphemism for it that'd make you feel better?"

Bobby gave him a look.

"And," Jack persisted, "I don't go through your stuff. Even if you think I do. I don't."

"You have though. Maybe not in a while. But that's not even what this is about. And just because I'm leaving—and I have to—that doesn't change anything."

"Okay, you're right."

Exasperated at the lack of response, Bobby caved. "Fine. What does it change?"

"Let's talk about it this weekend." Jack gave him a look. "Oh, you won't _be here_."

"Cute. And I don't want to talk about it this weekend. I want to just talk now."

"I'm too tired to argue with you, Bobby…" Jack objected, frowning.

"We won't argue. And you've been sleeping all day."

"I'm still _tired_," Jack responded.

Bobby let out a frustrated breath. "Fine, well rest up, because tomorrow you're going back to school." He studied Jack's disappointed face and then added, "Maybe," realizing that attempting to have an upper hand with something to feel better was not always going to get him what he wanted. Which mainly was to get Jack to talk. One wrong move and Jack would be silent the rest of the night.

"What's with the face? What's wrong with school?" Bobby persisted.

"Nothing. I'm tired."

Bobby nodded, realizing that would be the likely excuse for everything. "Can we have a real conversation or are you too tired for that too?"

Jack shrugged, using the news on the TV as something else to look at. "Too tired."

Bobby struggled with where to start. "Do you not trust me to talk about this or something?"

"I trust you," Jack answered without much commitment in his tone.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"What do you want?" Jack rolled his eyes. "You ask me just these random questions. And you're home for just a few days, so you can't just start asking me things like you know what's going on."

"Then enlighten me. What's going on?"

"Nothing. That's the thing. Nothing at all."

"I doubt that."

"Well, what do you know?"

"What do I know…" Bobby echoed. "Let's see. I know that you have—or sorry, _had_—a nice little collection of pills and some weed. Looked like shitty quality too, so it's nice to see you're stupid even with where you get it from… I also know you have this thing for seeing if you're flammable or not. The answer's no, Jack. You're not."

Jack just set his jaw. "It's not shitty."

"It is. I did you a favor taking it away."

"It's not."

"Does Mom know? You smoke in your room?"

Jack eyed him. "I don't know. I assume you'll tell her."

"I bet she knows."

"She told me not to smoke. I assumed she meant cigarettes."

"But weed would be okay?"

"No." Jack rolled his eyes. "I meant I assumed she knew just about the cigarettes."

"Because they smell so similar."

Jack didn't respond right away. Then after a moment, he slowly said, "But you're not exactly mad."

"No. I never said this was about me being mad. I'm not saying you should do it, but I did stupid shit too, so I'm not gonna act like I can make you do what you don't want to do. You'll obviously do it anyway. But the pills… That's kinda dangerous though, huh?"

"No. People take 'em normally."

"Because they're prescribed to them."

"Yeah, but I'm just saying. Those aren't illegal or anything. People take them all the time. It's not really that dangerous."

"They _are_ illegal when they're not prescribed to you, actually."

"Well, maybe if you sell them. I don't."

"Because you take them all yourself it's legal?"

"I haven't taken any of those recently. I mean, most of them make you really, really tired. And obviously I haven't been wanting to be tired."

Bobby felt like Jack was actually talking. Actually answering questions. Even if the answers made Bobby want to shake him. So he tried to ignore the stupidity in the replies and push a little further. "And the burns."

Jack eyed the television, frowning slightly. "I don't know what you mean."

Bobby knew he did know. "Does it relax you or something? Is that why you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ma knows about it too, you know that right?"

Jack breathed deeper. "Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"I'm not," Bobby answered. "I'm not trying at all to make you feel guilty. I just think that you need to talk to somebody about it."

"Why?"

"Because, Jack. If you won't even admit to it, then something is the matter. You won't admit it because you think it'll make me mad, and that's because you know it's something people don't do."

"People _do _do it."

"Okay. Yes, fine. You're right. But when there's something _wrong_. You have to agree with that. That's the difference. You understand? I know you understand. So I want you to help me understand."

"There's nothing to understand."

"It's some kind of release for you, huh? Just tell me about it." Bobby slowly trailed off as Angel walked into the room from the kitchen, rubbing his hands to dry them against his jeans.

"Dickwad," Angel said, glaring at Bobby. "Thanks for leaving all the domestic things to me today. Groceries, dishes…"

"You're welcome," Bobby answered. "You wanna do laundry too? I really gotta do some laundry."

"Fuck you."

"C'mon. Be a pal."

"No."

Jack pushed himself up off the couch, sensing his chance to leave the conversation without a huge ordeal. But he wasn't sure where he wanted to go. He wanted to get his stuff, but Bobby's room seemed off limits now. He also wanted to go out and smoke a cigarette but felt like Bobby would follow him there to try to continue this talk. He didn't want that either.

"Hey." Bobby poked Jack in the leg after the kid stood there for about fifteen seconds without moving.

"He's weird," Angel said, eyeing their youngest brother skeptically.

Jack blinked and then, ignoring them, walked past Angel and towards the kitchen.

"You're weird too," Bobby said. "Be nice."

"I'm super nice." Angel walked over to take Jack's seat on the couch. "What were you guys talking about?"

"You. And how small your dick is."

"Why you been looking? And ya'll know you wish you could have even some of this."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Except it burns when you pee."

"No, you ass." Angel punched Bobby in the arm but couldn't help but laugh.

ooooooooooooo

"Hi, sweetheart," Evelyn greeted, looking up from the sink at the sound of Jack's entrance into the kitchen.

"Hey," he responded, slowly walking over. He stood a few feet away, leaning against the counter. "You want help?"

"No, no, no…" She shook her head. "I'm almost done. Angel helped a bit. Thank you though."

"Yeah." He frowned, wondering why he'd come into the kitchen. In an attempt to avoid confrontation, he'd ironically chosen to come face to face with the person who confronted him the most. But it was a different kind of confrontation from Evelyn, in another league than Bobby.

"You didn't eat much, Jack," she said to him, placing a dish on the dish rack. "You want anything else?"

"No," he answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm not that hungry," he replied.

She glanced at him, taking in his posture and his distant look. He was staring off at the other side of the kitchen and she frowned. "Okay, well there's leftovers if you want them later. Are you going to be up for a while now?"

"I guess," he answered. "I feel like I slept all day."

She smiled. "Well, you did."

"Well… I know," he answered. "I know that." He paused. He wanted to ask her if he had to go to school tomorrow, now that Bobby had mentioned it, but didn't know how to ask it. He couldn't make it sound like he didn't want to go, but he didn't know how to do that while also getting the answer he wanted about staying home.

"Are you okay, Jack?" she asked. "Did you want to talk about something?"

"No," he answered, a little too quickly. He glanced at her, and realized she was almost done with the dishes. That meant that her full attention would turn on him, and he couldn't just stand there against the counter distractedly. That meant there would be questions.

"Nothing?"

But there already were questions.

"No," he replied. "Except if you can tell Bobby to stop bugging me, that would be good."

"What's he bugging you about?"

"I don't know," came the reflexive answer. "Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"You know. Questions. I don't like questions."

"Questions about what happened?"

He leaned back harder into the counter, realizing he'd just set himself up for the same conversation he just left. He felt the countertop press into his back.

"Questions about what happened, right, Jack?" she persisted.

"Well…" he paused. "I guess in part."

"Can you blame him?"

Jack shrugged.

"He's just worried…" Evelyn set another dish on the dish rack and then turned the water at the sink off, finally facing him. "I think you've given everyone a pretty good reason to be worried, don't you?"

He shrugged again.

"I know you don't like it," she continued, "but you might think about trying to explain to him—or to me—any of your reasons for what happened. I think you owe it to me, and I think you understand why we're worried."

He frowned, staring at her shoe. "I'm sorry…"

"I don't want you to apologize," she replied. Jack was always quick to apologize. That wasn't the problem. Jack's stubbornness and resistance at the hospital had actually been the rarity.

Sure he was difficult at times, but it was in a less external way. And as frustrating as it had been at the hospital—with his complete rejection for listening and sleeping or even understanding how to get himself better—it had also been bizarrely refreshing in that it was Jack standing up to somebody. He always hid behind something, some exterior, or disappeared to avoid confrontation. Of course it was during his distorted sense of reality, but it had shown there were other parts of Jack lurking within.

When he was silent, she repeated, "No apologizing. Alright?"

"Alright," he answered, not completely understanding why that was the case. If anything, he felt like he'd dragged them through a lot of stress in the past few days. In fact, he definitely had. All of it was his fault and he felt like he owed them all some kind of apology.

"No one is angry, and no one wants an apology," she persisted, as though reading his mind. "But I would like to talk to you. Whenever you're ready. And I do mean sooner rather than later."

"I wanted to do the sleep thing because I wanted to see if I could do it," he answered. "There's not too much to talk about. And obviously I couldn't do it. But it was just to see."

"That's part of it," she agreed. "But there's a lot of other things shadowing the sleep project too. Don't you think?"

"Not really."

"You want distractions," she said. "The project was a big distraction. Wasn't it?"

He shrugged.

"Or a release?"

"It was a challenge."

"A challenge." She nodded.

He nodded with her, not sure what else to say. He knew that harder things would come up. He didn't want to complicate it anymore at this point.

She continued. "Now, the other things… I want you to feel like you can just talk to me about them, Jack. You know you can just talk to me, don't you? I'm not going to get angry, or judge, or talk about something you don't want to talk about. Alright? We've been able to talk plenty of times and fix things."

"Yeah."

"So can we talk about this too."

He made a face. "Maybe."

"I think we really should… Now… Let's talk about what you've done to your arm."

"My arm…" he repeated.

"You burn yourself, or cut yourself." She sounded hesitant but continued. "I know you do, and it's fine to try to express your feelings, Jack, it is, and some people do it like that, but there's got to be a better way for you... I feel silly that it took something this big to happen for me to realize this. Is it a distraction too?"

"N-no…" he stuttered a little, unprepared for the questions, although he'd suspected sooner or later they would come. Just not this soon.

Or maybe he had expected it.

Maybe that was why he'd come in here.

"Not really," he added.

"Then what?"

Jack continued to stare at her shoe. Why was she treating it like that? It was something he'd been hiding, as well as he could, for a while now. And now she'd discovered it, yet she was treating it like anything else. Like asking him why he liked to play guitar or why he liked chocolate. It didn't make any sense.

He didn't answer.

"Jack? You with me? I just want to know what it does for you. Everyone does something for a reason. You must have a reason."

"It's not really a…" He looked up from her shoe and at her face, which was complacent. "Why are you…"

"I told you, I'm not mad about any of it. I'm just curious."

Then why did Jack still have that raging mix of guilt and anxiety pulsing through him? Despite the fact he almost believed her. He also almost wanted _this _release too, this release in explanation. But… It was still uncomfortable. "Can we do this another time?"

"Honey, no." She shook her head. "You can't just keep saying another time. We need to talk about it now."

Now. Now was so definitive. But he'd also known that coming in here. "Okay."

"Just try to explain it to me. When you do it, what goes through your head?"

"Nothing," he replied, almost under his breath. "Nothing goes through my head."

"So it clears your head?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

She paused. There was a delicate balance between putting words into Jack's mouth and getting him to say what he was thinking. "Is there a certain time you find yourself doing it?"

He swallowed, pausing. Was there? He thought about it and then slowly admitted, "When I feel really stressed."

"So you do it so you don't feel stressed anymore?"

"No… I just do it."

"But maybe it helps you forget what you were stressed about?"

"I don't know." Jack sighed. "Maybe." He rubbed at his forehead and swore he felt hot enough to have a fever. "Can we—"

"You've been worrying me, and I want to talk about it now, Jack," she replied. "How about we go sit down and—"

"No." He shook his head. "No. Here is fine."

She nodded. "Fine. As long as we're talking."

"I'll stop, okay?" he replied. "Can we just…" He shook his head, letting out a disgruntled breath. "I'll stop if you want. There. It's over."

"In my experience, you can't just stop," she answered gently. "It's not something you can just put down and never look at again. It's a compulsion, Jack. You need to find out why you do it, and then you can stop."

Of course she would have the route to the answers, but he wasn't ready to find the 'reasons'. Something in her tone did make him feel a little bit better, like this confrontation wasn't truly a confrontation, but more a conversation.

Of course it was a conversation. But it was no less nerve-wracking.

"Do you agree?" she asked.

"I agree."

"Then why don't you tell me what you think. What makes you feel stressed out, so that you need something to make you feel better? Is it something I can help you with?"

He made a face. "I don't know…"

She paused. "But you want to talk about it, don't you? I know that it sometimes makes me feel better to talk things over."

"Yeah… Sometimes."

"If you did feel like it might help, how would you feel about going back to Dr. Prome again, Jack?"

He looked at her in shock. "No." That caught him completely off guard. "No, I…. I said I'm sorry. And you're wrong. I can definitely _not _do it again if I choose not to do it. And I won't anymore, if—"

"Honey, stop," she interrupted. "I'm not using her as a threat. Not at all. I thought you liked her."

"No," he insisted. "No, I'm not doing that again."

She sighed, knowing that some parts of his past therapy had actually helped. But sitting, or standing, one-on-one with anybody was always a stress with Jack. She could almost hear his heart pounding.

"You don't have to do it again," she assured.

"Good," he replied. He swallowed. "I need a cigarette."

She raised her eyebrows. "Jack… You know how I feel about smoking…"

"I… just need to," he replied, pushing away from the counter.

She felt his need and allowed it. "We're finishing this later then," she said firmly.

"Fine."

She watched him leave the kitchen without another word. Instead she took a deep breath, trying to clear her own mind. Her eyes went towards a family picture she had on the refrigerator. It was a Christmas picture and there was all of them there, Jerry sporting a red Santa hat. Jack was probably around eleven or twelve. They were all smiling.

She almost fooled herself for a second by thinking it had been simply then.

Life was never simple.

ooooooooooooooo


	15. Chapter 15

**Just a huge thanks to everyone reading this story, especially those who are kind enough to leave such great, constructive reviews. You were the ones that really encouraged me to get this chapter up! Finished this one quickly this afternoon so please forgive any big errors!  
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**Chapter 15**

Jack left the kitchen feeling like he was leaving a fight. Not that it had been anything like a fight, but he still felt that same result of confrontation. The racing heart, the jolt of sweating anxiety, the rush of adrenaline. He wasn't sure why it felt the same, and he wanted to remind himself that it was _Evelyn _for God's sake, and if anyone could help him, he'd learned it was her, but he felt too riled up to even consider that.

Through the family room he walked quickly, avoiding eye contact with Bobby and Angel, who were on the couch. He couldn't deal with them right now. Angel's righteousness and Bobby's jokes. He was thankful neither of them made a single comment as he crossed through and left the room.

He went upstairs, taking two steps at a time, and made his way to his room. His room that Bobby had trespassed in. He walked in hesitantly, as though it would look like Bobby had ripped it apart to find what he suspected. But of course it looked no different than he remembered leaving it. Jack had never purposefully hid any of his things. They weren't obvious, but they also weren't expecting a search.

He went to his nightstand drawer, pulling it open. He already knew what was missing from Bobby dropping it in front of him, but for some reason he needed the confirmation. With a sigh, he slammed the drawer shut and turned to the shelf above his bed, swiping the pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

He walked back over to the door and pushed it shut. He didn't even bother to lock it or anything, despite his need for privacy. He'd learned that locking the door just bothered people more in this house. He would make the small baby steps they were looking for if it made it a bit easier on him.

Mentally crossing his fingers that Bobby either hadn't looked in the harmless looking pack of cigarettes, or at least had just quickly looked, Jack took a breath and pushed the carton open.

He smiled. Most of the cigarettes were just that, but there, nicely tucked in, were a few of his own carefully rolled joints.

Pulling one out, he walked towards his window. He pushed it open, letting in a cool breeze, and sat down on the floor right below it. He examined the joint like he was inspecting a piece of artwork, eyeing the tightly rolled stem with pride. Then, after taking a deep breath, he flicked on the lighter.

He could hear the phone ringing from the other room. Angel had one in his room, so did Evelyn. Jack rarely used the phone.

He inhaled on the joint deeply, watching the end of it light up brighter with his inhalation. Then he held it, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes. As he slowly let out a breath a moment later, he realized it was too quiet.

Ignoring the obvious scent that filled his nose and would probably in a few minutes be obvious outside his door, he reached onto the nightstand to pull down a set of headphones. The odor made him fill with a sense of craving, even though he was in the middle of it already.

He sloppily shoved the headphones on, managing after a few seconds to get them on his ears right, and then flipped on the CD, turning the volume up loud.

He took another hit.

This… he thought, almost contently. This is relaxation.

The adrenaline faded and he felt his pulse begin to slow. A surge of anxiety hit him briefly as he was reminded of his pulse from before—was that only yesterday?—when he actually thought he would lose it. Maybe he had lost it.

But then that was gone too. Because why did it even matter?

He was pleased to smoke and listen to the music without interruption. It was almost surprising, considering the way he had left the kitchen, that no one had come up to bug him, or to check up on him. He felt like they treated him like he was five years old half the time, never allowing an 'I'm fine' to be the end of a conversation. He knew it would only get worse, because of what he'd done, but now wasn't the time for that.

Then when was the time? Evelyn's question filled his head.

He didn't know. But he didn't want to think about that either.

It was a mixture of the deep, held breaths and the marijuana that calmed him. He wasn't sure really which helped more. The tiredness, the vulnerability of his mind, made it that much better.

He closed his eyes and once again leaned his head back against the wall, music filling his head. Everything was so much clearer now. He wished he could be in the song.

He continued to smoke the joint.

It felt like an hour had passed when the music suddenly disappeared, and he felt the headphones pulled off his head.

His eyes shot open, and he looked up in alarm. Of course it was Bobby.

It probably hadn't been an hour. It had probably been fifteen minutes.

"That reeks," Bobby told him, reaching over him to push the window above him open even wider.

Alarmed, Jack looked at the nearly gone joint still in his hand. He reached clumsily for the empty soda can he spied a few feet away on the ground and dropped the butt in there. He heard it sizzle the rest of the way out.

"Don't give me that look," Bobby told him, and Jack wasn't even sure what look he had on his face. "I shoulda known this was what you were doing up here."

Jack shrugged.

"Why isn't the real world good enough for you?" Bobby asked.

"Don't ruin it," Jack told him.

"Ruin what?"

How could Jack explain? But the moment of clarity, of relaxation, of just music and… Jack. That moment was now about to be gone.

"Just don't ruin it," Jack persisted. "I'm happy."

"This is happy?" Bobby replied, eyeing his brother's glazed over look. "I was going to see if you wanted to go out with me, get out of the house, but never mind."

"Out where?"

"Never mind now. I don't want to be seen with you now."

Jack smiled widely, not sure why he felt that was so funny. But suddenly his worry about Bobby being there was gone. "I like it here anyway."

"Yeah, because the floor's always a good place to be," Bobby answered sarcastically. "Where'd you get that anyway?" he indicated the soda can still in Jack's hand.

Jack stared at it. "Pepsi." He read off the can. "I don't know. Must've gotten it from the fridge."

"No, you dumbass. Where'd you get what you just dropped in it."

"Oh…" Jack realized what Bobby meant. "Oh, you know."

"I know? I thought I found your shit." Bobby glanced around. "You mean you have more stuff lying around that I missed?"

Jack just shrugged again.

Bobby eyed the cigarette carton and lighter sitting a couple inches from Jack. He reached down to pick it up.

"NO!" Jack objected, suddenly alarmed. He grabbed it with surprising quickness. He won out with proximity.

"What is it?" Bobby replied. Without much effort, he snatched the carton out of Jack's grasp and straightened back up, standing over him as he pushed open the box and glanced inside.

Of course that's what it was. That was a stupid question.

He looked down at Jack, who had the most devastated look on his face. It made him realize how worthless taking anything away from him had been. He hesitated and then tossed the carton into Jack's lap. "Whatever. Don't cry over it. Here."

Jack looked a little confused, but picked up the box and placed it right next to himself with the old can of soda.

Bobby took a deep breath and then sat down awkwardly, finding it weird to sit on the floor but tired of standing above Jack. He stretched his legs out in front of him and took a deep breath of the odor in the room.

"I remember getting this contact high once…" Bobby spoke slowly. "And being so confused…" he laughed. "God, I was dumb."

Jack didn't respond.

A moment of silence passed.

"What are you listening to?" Bobby asked.

"Was listening." Jack wanted him to go away, but didn't say that. "Elliott Smith," he responded.

"Who's that?"

Jack just looked at him with a sense of disappointment. "Never mind." He pushed himself up off the floor, taking the headphones with him, and walked over to his bed.

"Is this some ultra famous person I should know about?" Bobby persisted. "Man, you know I know none of your music. Or famous people. Especially if they don't have boobs and a great ass."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He put the headphones back on and lay back on his bed, legs still hanging off the side.

"Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. He hadn't turned the music back on.

"I came up 'cause Ma wanted me to tell you one of your teachers called."

Jack stared at the ceiling. Then he closed his eyes so tightly that he saw flashes of light. "Which?"

"The one you had the project due for."

"Oh."

"She said she never approved your choice of project," Bobby continued. He picked up the lighter Jack had left behind, studying it. "And that you can have an extension, but that you still need a paper."

"Fine. She'll get a fucking paper."

"Once I handed in the wrong paper," Bobby said. He smirked, remembering. "It was a History paper in an English class. Of course the teacher doesn't look at 'em, or get to mine at least, for a few days, and it's not until then that I pull the 'oops, brought the wrong one by mistake' game. Bought me like a week."

"Smart," Jack answered.

"Not that you should do that or anything."

"No. That involves having another paper," Jack reminded. Jack opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling again. The room looked warm, despite the cool air from the window. The lights glowed around the edges.

"True." Bobby paused. "So… I get this feeling that you've already resigned yourself to not going to school tomorrow."

"Yup," Jack replied, feeling no need to lie.

"You tell Ma that?"

Jack paused. "No," he admitted.

"But you talked to her?"

"A little bit."

"Well, that's good. Didn't that feel good?"

Jack didn't answer immediately. Yes? No? How was he supposed to reply to that? "It's okay," he answered indecisively after a moment.

Bobby studied his brother from his view on the floor. He couldn't see Jack's face with him lying back like that. "Am I ruining your high?"

"No," Jack lied.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He felt restless. He hadn't come up here expecting it to be so awkward.

Another moment of silence passed between them.

Then suddenly Bobby thought of something. "You wanna go play hockey with me at the park?"

Jack sat up a little, raising himself on his elbows to give Bobby an incredulous look. "Right now?"

"Yeah, you wanna?" Bobby asked. "It's been a while."

Jack pushed himself up to sit up straight. Despite being random, it actually didn't seem like that bad an idea. "Really?"

"Yeah. I love it at night. And you playing in that state is going to be hilarious. C'mon." Bobby got up off the floor and walked towards Jack's closet. "You got your blades?"

"Yeah," Jack responded.

"Well, then let's do it," Bobby persisted, fishing out a pair of rollerblades from beneath a pile of clothes in the closet. He turned around and faced Jack again, finding the kid smiling. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed, standing up.

"Your shoes are in my room," Bobby said. "Let's go."

Jack followed him out of his room and down the stairs, feeling a little excited. He hadn't played anything with Bobby in a while, and his brother was right, it was a lot of fun at night. There were always lights on there anyway. Despite being high, it seemed like an amazing idea. Or maybe it seemed amazing because he was high.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Bobby headed towards the family room with Jack just behind him.

"Angel," Bobby said as he walked into the room, eyeing his other brother and Evelyn on the couch. "Jackie and me are going to the park, grab your blades."

"Right now?" Angel laughed.

"Yeah." Bobby gave Jack a push. "Jackie, get your sneakers."

Jack headed towards Bobby's room.

"Are you serious?" Angel persisted.

"Yeah, c'mon. It'll be you and me versus him," Bobby answered. "We'll beat his ass."

"Where are yours?" Angel replied, recognizing Jack's rollerblades in Bobby's hands.

"My trunk," Bobby answered.

"Bobby," Evelyn interjected. "Listen, it's late and—"

"I'll protect 'em from the boogiemen in the park this hour, Ma, don't worry," Bobby told her. "It's fine."

"No, honey… Use your head. Your brother was _just _ in the hospital. You think this is a good idea?"

"He wants to."

"He also wanted to stay awake for two hundred hours too. Sometimes decisions need to be rethought."

"Two hundred sixty five," Bobby corrected.

"Bobby…"

"He'll be fine," Bobby replied. "He slept all day, he ate—"

"Barely."

"He's good, Ma. Really. If not, we'll come home."

"If not? Why even take the chance, Bobby?"

Ignoring her for a moment, Bobby looked at Angel. "So you want to come or what, Ang?"

Glancing at Evelyn for just a second, Angel nodded at his brother. "Yeah." He got up from the couch. "I'll be downstairs in a minute."

Bobby watched him leave, feeling Evelyn's eyes on him. Finally, he turned back to her. "Seriously, he'll be fine. He needs it."

"I don't know if he's up to it."

"Sure he is. Besides, I'm only here for a few more days, and I haven't played with him since I got here."

"Because he hasn't been sleeping, Bobby. Exactly why you should—"

"Please, I need to," Bobby replied. "Really, I need to. He's fine. I can't talk to him, but we can do this at least."

"Bobby…"

In the next room, Jack was sitting on Bobby's floor, tying his sneakers. It was then when he realized something even more exciting than going to the park to play with Bobby and Angel.

Bobby had just allowed him into his room. Alone.

Jack quickly finished tying his laces and got up, glancing at the doorway nervously before heading towards the drawer that held his stolen possessions. He pulled it open and quickly took back the 'Tylenol' and the small baggie.

He quickly breathed a sigh of relief, stuffing both into his baggy jeans. Baggy enough that neither was noticeable.

This was easier than he'd imagined.

Of course Bobby would notice they were gone. But right now that wasn't his problem. Besides, Bobby had just given him the 'cigarettes' back. Who was to say he wasn't going to give this stuff back also?

"You ready?" came Bobby's voice in the doorway.

Jack turned to face him, slightly startled. He composed himself, replying, "Yeah. I'm ready," as he walked towards the door.

"Good," Bobby said, studying him just for a second. As Jack walked past him, Bobby took his arm, holding him for a brief second. "Listen, convince Ma you won't die in the park, alright? She's saying you shouldn't go because of everything."

"I'm fine," Jack said. "I want to."

"Okay, well act like you're not high and go tell her then. I'll be out in a second." Bobby let him go with a pat on the back.

When Jack disappeared, Bobby replayed his startled look in his head as he slowly walked over towards his bed and nightstand. Already knowing what he would find, he slowly pulled open the drawer, revealing the missing contents.

Bobby sighed. "Oh, Jack…" he muttered.

He shut the drawer with a feeling of resignation and left his room, finding Evelyn giving Jack the once over. She was asking him for probably the tenth time if he was sure he should go out and do something physical at this time of night.

"I'm fine…" Jack persisted, for probably the fifteenth time.

It was then that Evelyn got up off the couch and approached him.

"Jack, are you high?" she suddenly asked.

"No," he answered.

"Look at me."

"I'm not…" Jack started to walk away.

"He's just tired," Bobby objected, walking over. "Let's go."

"Bobby," Evelyn said sternly. "One minute. What'd he take?"

"Nothing," Bobby replied. "I saw him take nothing."

She gave him a look. "Jack," Evelyn persisted. "Jack, don't you walk away from me. Look at me."

Jack stood there, staring off at the wall.

"You know, I'm not stupid," Evelyn began. "At all. And if you think I won't notice if your room smells like I think it does, or if I don't notice right now, then that's just insulting."

He didn't say anything.

"Not in my house, Jack," she persisted. "Not under this roof. Do you—"

"Ma," Bobby interrupted, moving towards them. "Let me take him out."

"No," Evelyn answered. "Bobby, don't interrupt me."

He made a face. "Come on. Let us go."

"You just want to ignore it? Since when do you let him smoke?"

"I don't," Bobby objected. "But can you yell at him when we get back?"

Evelyn gave him a look. "I want to handle this now."

Bobby frowned, glancing at Jack, who looked like he had just displaced himself from the whole situation and was just standing there staring across the room. "I don't think he's in a 'handling it' mood."

"He never is."

"I just wanna take him and Angel out," Bobby persisted.

"Take Angel then, Bobby."

"Because you talking to him when he's high is going to get you somewhere?"

"Bobby, I don't think your lax acceptance of this or fighting me is getting us anywhere either," Evelyn replied.

"I'm not accepting it. I'll kick his ass out in the rink, alright?" Bobby answered. "But we can't go back an hour right now, and I'm sure it doesn't shock you to know he smokes up sometimes either. I think that's part of the whole problem package."

"I'm not high," Jack spoke up.

Bobby cuffed him in the head. "You shut up. Go get my keys in the kitchen." He pushed at him.

As Jack left, Evelyn gave Bobby a frown. "I don't like you undermining my authority with him, Bobby. I know you like to take care of him, but—"

"I'm not undermining your authority," Bobby objected. "He's just… He's going to get upset if you…" He sighed. "I don't want to see him get upset again tonight."

"You and him think everything can wait. It can't. He has a problem."

"Yeah. The problem's that he's fifteen."

"That's part of the problem."

"His age sucks," Bobby replied. "But he'll wise up. And he talked to you a little tonight."

"A little. Suddenly this is no big deal to you?"

"No, it is…. But tonight… Come on. It's either me take him, or him locking himself in his room," Bobby told her. "Which do you want?"

Evelyn sighed. "Agreeing seems wrong to me.

"But you know it's true. You can't do anything now."

"I just want to…" She let out an exasperated breath. "Did you at least tell him his teacher called while you were ignoring the fact he was high?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. And I wasn't ignoring it. Listen, I'll bring him back in one piece. Maybe a smarter piece."

Jack reappeared from the kitchen, keys in his hand. He walked hesitantly.

"Jack," Evelyn spoke. "Come here for a second, will you?"

Jack approached her slowly.

"You know I'm disappointed," she told him. "You know I want to discuss this now. But we both know maybe now isn't the best time. So you can go ahead with Bobby and we'll talk about this later."

He nodded. "Okay."

Evelyn turned to her oldest son. "Bobby," she said. "Don't be late."

"Aye, aye," Bobby agreed, walking across the room and picking up the rollerblades he'd left on the floor. Jack followed him as he walked out to the stairway, silent. Bobby stared up the stairs and yelled, "Angel! Ready?"

"Yeah!" Angel yelled back. "Down in a sec!"

Bobby looked Jack's long face as the TV went on louder in the next room, a sure sign that Evelyn was now not in the greatest mood. Jack offered him the car keys.

"Oh, thanks," Bobby replied. He reached out and tousled Jack's hair. "Cheer up, princess. There's no crying in hockey." He turned and yelled up the stairs again, "Angel! Who are you primping for?"

There was no response.

"He needs to hurry up," Bobby muttered. He looked at Jack's expession again and then nudged him in the arm. "You okay? Don't be afraid of her."

"I'm not."

"Good then. You know she won't even holler at you. She'll just ask you why you're so dumb. And you are dumb."

"Bobby…" Jack objected, voice pathetic.

"Okay, okay…" Bobby slung an arm casually around him and squeezed him briefly. "Sorry."

Angel came down the stairs then, with a sweatshirt and his rollerblades.

"There you are. About time," Bobby said.

"Fuck off. I couldn't find anything."

"Whatever." Bobby nodded towards the door. "Let's go, you punks. Time for you to be schooled."

ooooooooooooooo


	16. Chapter 16

**It appears Alerts are down again on the site. Or at least they don't seem to be working for me... So hopefully the update will be found. **

**Anyway:  
**

**Thanks for your patience in waiting for this update. I know it's been a little while, and I'll blame it on the holidays and the new year. Happy 2007, everybody! I actually had an idea for another Four Brother's story, so fear not those of you that put up with my endless stories, I have one in mind for when I finally wrap this one up. I don't have many more notes, other than I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review if you have the time. **

* * *

**Chapter 16**

"There's only three of us," Jack stated solemnly, feeling a little relieved that he'd snagged the front passenger seat of the car as he scanned through the radio stations. Something to distract him. He couldn't get the disappointment in Evelyn's voice out of his mind. He turned up the volume on the radio, wondering if that would help.

"Keep it down," Bobby told him, reaching over to turn the volume knob back to where it was.

Jack frowned but sat back and didn't touch it again.

A moment of silence passed between them.

"He's right," Angel finally spoke up from the back seat. "Three will be weird. Outnumbering him is only so much fun."

"I'm going to swing by Jerry's," Bobby replied.

"Now?" Angel asked incredulously, leaning forward.

"Why not right now?" Bobby answered, eyeing him in the rear view mirror. "It's not that late. And even if he is an old man now, he oughtta be able to come out with his brothers."

"Whatever," Angel replied with a shrug. "I'm just saying… I don't think Camille's gonna want him to."

"Well, Jerry's his own man. She doesn't give him permission."

Angel laughed. "Uh, yeah… Sure."

"Far as I know he's still got balls, man. He can come if he wants."

"I'm just talking from experience. I called him once around this time and she was pissed."

"Man, I know what time you're talking about. And it was like three o'clock on the morning, and you'd lost your keys, and you called him instead of Ma and woke up the baby. Right?"

"It wasn't three o'clock."

"Right. Two thirty."

"No, it wasn't. You weren't even there. How do you even know?" Angel shook his head in exasperation. You weren't there."

Bobby pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. "Yeah, whatever. Put your seatbelt on, Angel."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. It's the law."

"Fuck that."

"It is. You think I wanna be pulled over for that?"

"They don't pull you over for that."

"They do if they're bored."

"You ever been pulled over for that?"

"Shut up, Angel."

"No," Angel replied. "And by the way, your car smells like weed. Like hard core."

"It's your little brother."

"Serious?" Angel laughed. He smirked and stared at the back of Jack's head, poking him. "Are you high, man?"

"No," Jack answered.

"It's you and me versus him, Ang," Bobby said. "It'll be hilarious."

"I'm not," Jack persisted.

"Sometimes he's better like this," Angel said. "You know that, right?"

"When have we played with him high before?" Bobby turned his head to look at Jack. "When'd that happen?"

"Never," Jack answered. "I'm not even high now."

"Sure."

"That is kinda funny," Angel said with a smirk. "Man, now I wish I was high too. How much fun would that be."

"No, you're on my team," Bobby answered. "Can't play against two retards." Bobby slowed at the light. "We're almost there. Who wants to run out and see if Jerry can come?"

"Not me," Angel answered.

"Jackie? You're quiet. You wanna run in and see Jerry?" Bobby asked.

Jack shrugged.

"I kinda want to go in and see Daniela," Bobby admitted. He pulled his car up to the curb in front of Jerry's place. "I can't believe she's walking."

"She's probably sleeping," Angel replied. "She sleeps all the time."

"Well, I'll see anyway…" Bobby put the car in park and unclipped his belt. "Neither of you touch the car, alright? I'm leaving the keys."

"What do we look like, Bobby?" Angel retorted irritably.

"Idiots," Bobby replied, pushing open the car door. "I mean it. I don't want you touching anything. Jack, only the radio, you hear me?"

Angel watched Bobby slam the door shut behind him and start up the walkway to Jerry's. "He really doesn't trust us."

"I know," Jack replied.

"Not a surprise, I guess," Angel said. He smirked. "Hey, we should park the car somewhere else. Just to see what he says."

Jack glanced behind him and gave Angel a look. "Are you crazy?"

"It would be hilarious."

"Before or after he kills you?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "If he hasn't killed you for smoking up, then I'm safe." He paused. "Why is that, anyway?"

"I'm not high."

"Yes, you are. Obviously."

"Obviously?" Jack craned his head to glare at Angel. "You're so full of it."

"No, I'm not. And suddenly Bobby thinks it's funny you're messed up, so I want to know why. What'd you do?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. Is it because of the whole hospital thing? I mean, he's been cool about it before depending, but normally he'd give a damn. Why isn't he?"

"Maybe he realizes it's nothing."

"No way. When that day comes it'll mean Ma thinks it's nothing. And that day has not, and will never, come."

Jack felt his stomach turn at the thought of Evelyn and how they had left the house. He didn't look forward to that conversation in the least. "Yeah."

"So what is it?" Angel persisted.

"I don't know," Jack answered.

"Okay, well it's weird, anyway. I mean, really weird. Or Bobby's just got something else on his mind."

"Maybe."

"But I thought it'd be you. With the no sleep thing, and the hospital thing, and all that stuff. But he hasn't really acted like that or anything."

Jack shrugged.

Sensing Jack's lack of interest in discussing his recent turn of events, Angel took a deep breath. "Hey. You have anything on you now?"

"Huh?"

"You know. Have anything on you?"

"No," Jack lied.

Angel sighed. "Probably for the better." He paused. "You think Jerry's gonna come?"

Jack turned his head, squinting up towards where Bobby had disappeared. "I dunno. I hope so."

"Yeah. Me too. The four of us haven't done anything together in a while. And Bobby's taking off again so who knows when the next time will be."

"Yeah."

* * *

"Hi, sweetheart!" Bobby greeted, crouching down to greet Jerry's one year old daughter, who was sitting on the floor hugging a stuffed bear.

"Bobby," Jerry said, closing the door behind his brother. "What're you doing here?"

Bobby grinned at Daniela, tickling her belly gently before he straightened and turned towards Jerry. "I've got Jack and Angel in the car. We're going for some street hockey. You game?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. Where's Camille?"

"She was just on the phone with her sister. You've got Jack? Wasn't he just in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but he's been resting up. He's fine."

Jerry gave him a dubious look. "You're going to play hockey with him?

"Yeah."

"Bobby. C'mon. The kid was just in the hospital."

"Thanks, _Evelyn_. You already mentioned that. Not like I haven't been paying attention."

"You think that's smart?"

"I don't think it's not smart…" Bobby answered. "Besides, he's been so frustrating that I have to do something… Talking to him makes me want to throttle him, and we haven't all played since…. Since I don't even know."

"Yeah, but…"

"Are you in or out?"

Jerry gave him a look and then glanced inside, as if he could see Camille through the wall. "Bobby…"

"What? C'mon, man, don't look at me like that. Let's just go. I've barely even seen you since I've been back."

"I know, but this… This isn't the best time."

"Why? What are you doing right now?'

Jerry sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "It's not exactly that."

"Camille is here for the baby."

"Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

"No. Let's go now."

Jerry knew his brother was going to be stubborn about this and almost gave in right there. But he couldn't be that easy. "You didn't even call. Camille just got in like a half hour ago and—"

"Go talk to her, and then we can go."

"Bobby." Jerry walked towards his daughter and reached down to pick up the child, balancing her on his hip.

Camille walked into the hall that moment, smiling. "Oh, hi, Bobby. I thought I heard voices. I was just on the phone with my sister so I didn't even hear the door."

"Hey, Camille," Bobby greeted. "I just thought I'd stop by. I was on the way to the park with Jackie and Angel for a little game of hockey."

"How is Jack doing?"

"Uh, he's good." Bobby shrugged. "Getting there, anyway. Figured we all needed air tonight."

"Is he going back to school tomorrow?" Jerry asked.

"I'm not sure."

"I'm kinda surprised Ma's letting him out to play hockey with everything that happened."

"He's not an invalid. And he's been sleeping a really long time now."

"Yeah, still."

"Well, that should be fun," Camille said. "I'm sure you'll take it easy."

"Would you mind if we borrowed Jerry?" Bobby asked her. "I actually stopped by to see if he wanted to come. It's not often the four of us do this anymore."

Camille hesitated in her response. "Well, um, sure…" she said slowly. "Jerry, if you want to go, you go ahead. I was just gonna get Daniela a bath."

Bobby gave Jerry a hopeful look.

"I don't know, Bobby," Jerry responded. He looked at Camille. "Honey, I was just saying how you just got back and—"

"Oh, no, don't use me as an excuse," she said with a laugh. "Go play with your brothers. You'll have a good time."

"Jack wants it to be the four of us," Bobby said. "Come on."

Jerry took a deep breath and then smiled. "Alright, you know what? Let's do it. I just gotta grab my blades."

"Here, let me see her." Bobby walked forward and held his hands out to take the baby. He pulled her into his arms and smirked. "She's getting big."

"Yeah, she is," Camille agreed, watching Jerry walk out of the hallway. "It's incredible how fast they grow, you know?"

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "She sleeping better?"

Camille nodded. "Yeah. She's been sleeping through the whole night now, which is great."

"Yeah, I bet."

* * *

"He's seriously coming?" Angel stared through the car window, watching his two brothers walking down the steps.

"Cool," Jack replied, switching the radio station. "Four is better than three."

"Fuck yeah. I just did not think he'd come."

"Me neither."

"This'll be fun."

Bobby climbed back into the driver's seat of the car and Jerry got into the back with Angel, tossing his rollerblades on the floor of the car first.

"Hey, Ang," Jerry greeted. He reached over the front passenger seat and rubbed his hand over Jack's hair. "Hey, kiddo."

"Camille let you off the leash for the night?" Angel asked.

Jerry glared at him.

"Alright." Bobby put the car in drive. "Let's go."

"I didn't think you were coming out," Angel told Jerry.

"I wasn't going to," Jerry admitted. "But Bobby's relentless."

Bobby smirked. "You wanted to."

"Well, sure. But Camille just got in."

"You're so whipped," Angel laughed.

"No. It's just different when you've got a kid."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"One day you'll see. Anyway, forget it. I'm here, aren't I?" Jerry answered. He paused. "So how you feeling, Cracker Jack? You been resting?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I've been sleeping."

"That's good. You scared us, that's for sure. Let's try to cut back on the crazy ideas from now on, huh? Don't scare Ma like that. She's getting too old for that crap."

"She's not old," Angel spoke up.

"Well, she's not getting any younger," Jerry replied.

"I'm going to tell her you called her old."

Jerry rolled his eyes at Angel. "Whatever."

"I think she's got a little bit more on her plate to worry about," Bobby said, glancing back at them, "than your fictional name calling."

Jack fidgeted, wondering if by 'a bit more on her plate' Bobby was referring to him. He was pretty certain it was him causing all of the recent drama in the Mercer household.

He was glad they didn't continue to talk about her though, instead shifting the conversation to a recent shooting on the other side of town. But Jack couldn't really focus. He didn't really want to think about shootings. And even if they stopped talking about her, he still worried about what she would say to him when they got back.

He soon stopped thinking about Evelyn as they finally got to the park, got their rollerblades on and began a game of hockey. True to his word, Bobby let Angel on his team and Jerry joined Jack's side.

It had been a while since they last played, and Jack was quickly reminded of how grueling a game of hockey with his brothers could be. They were physical and they played strong, taking every moment of the game like it would be a buzzer beating sports highlight.

When he'd first moved into the Mercers, he'd been pulled into their passion for hockey pretty quickly. Bobby lived for the game and had been thrilled to have someone new to teach the game to, from the basic rules to his own crafted nuances and tactics. But Jack was eleven then and much smaller than the other three, who realized pretty fast that he was a lot easier to knock down. But they also realized he was pretty tough, and as he got bigger, they started to give him less slack in the rink.

And now, as his feet went out from under him and he landed on his ass after a hard push from Angel, he realized there was no slack at all. This was like the tenth time he'd fallen.

He lifted his hand and frowned at his palm, which was now scraped. He didn't even bother to get up right away. As he wiped the small pieces of gravel off, he felt a something tap him on his back. He looked up and found Bobby there.

"You're sloppy," Bobby told him, poking him with the hockey stick again. "Get up, you stoner."

"I'm not sloppy," Jack objected. "I'm just getting the gravel out of my hand."

"Poor baby," Bobby replied. "And you are. C'mon. Get up. You gotta duck into the hits. You know he's gonna hit you."

Sourly, Jack crawled back to his feet, feeling the ache in his ankles from not being used to rollerblading recently. He wouldn't dare complain about that though.

"You hear me?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack answered.

"If you go lower you can get him down instead," Bobby persisted.

Jack didn't care for Bobby's tips, even if he was being nice by taking a moment out of the competitiveness to get into his teaching mode. If Bobby was in the right mood than it could be really helpful, but this time it was Jack not in the right mood.

He nodded dumbly at Bobby as the man spewed out more tips, but they continued to sound like orders and Jack didn't respond.

Instead he rolled up to Jerry.

"Sorry you have the shitty teammate," he said.

"I'm tired too," Jerry answered. "It don't matter."

"Yeah, it matters," Jack replied.

Being high certainly didn't make things any easier. It wasn't that Jack didn't think it was fun. It was. It was more that he was so easily distracted, and his mind was so many places. He also realized that he still was really exhausted. While overall his mind was off Evelyn, he would get this momentary jolts… Reminders of what was to come.

"Alright, ladies." Bobby slapped his hockey stick against the pavement. "Let's go."

Jack wiped a trail of sweat off his forehead. They'd been playing only for about a half hour and he already felt like he'd run a marathon. "Bobby, can we…" he trailed off as he saw Bobby's face. He'd never live it down asking to take a break after just a half hour.

"Let's take a breather," Jerry suggested. Now that they'd stopped for a moment he realized he too would love to just take a small break.

"No," Bobby complained. "Come on… What is this? The Special Olympics?"

"Five minutes," Jerry said. He gave Bobby a stern look.

Jack didn't wait for an answer. Instead he sat down on the pavement, dropping his hockey stick beside him.

"Oh, come on…" Angel objected.

Bobby moved over to where the ball they'd been playing with was and hit it hard towards Jack. It hit him in the leg and rolled away.

"I thought you wanted to play," Bobby said.

"We've been playing," Jack answered, stretching out his legs. "Just five minutes. Jerry said."

"Five minutes." Bobby glanced at his watch. "Alright." He wiped his sleeve across his face. "Well, why don't you tell Jerry why you're so out of it."

"I think I know," Jerry replied. "I didn't miss the not sleeping thing. Exactly why you should cut him some slack."

"First off, that's his own fault. But that's not what I'm talking about. Not that," Bobby answered.

"Then what?"

"Tell him, Jack," Bobby urged.

"What are you talking about?" Jack answered.

"Tell him how you're high as a kite."

Jerry laughed. "No, he's not." He looked down at Jack and scrutinized him. "Are you?"

"No…" Jack muttered, rolling his eyes as Bobby's need to keep bringing that little fact up. "I'm not."

"Look at him," Bobby persisted.

Jerry was looking at him, but he wasn't completely sure. Apparently, Jack was out of sorts a lot more than he ever realized.

"Can we play now?" Angel whined.

"Give him a couple minutes," Bobby sighed, realizing Jerry was right about the break. "Ma would be mad if we actually killed him." He moved over towards Jack. "You're okay, right? Just tired?"

Jack looked up at him. "She's already mad."

"Huh?" Bobby found the ball a few feet from him and pulled it towards him with the end of the hockey stick.

"She's already mad."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Whatever. You okay or what?"

"Yeah." Jack rubbed at his shaggy hair. "I just gotta breathe for a minute."

"Okay, because I don't need any 'I told you so' from Ma. Or to be in another hospital with you."

"She said not to bring him?" Jerry asked. "I knew it. I figured so much."

Bobby shrugged. "She didn't tell me not to bring him explicitly. Well… She did but then she opened up to the idea after a little bit."

"He's gonna hurt himself. Is he still on meds?"

"Jerry, I am here, you know," Jack said, glowering at him. "Don't talk like I'm not here."

"Man, at least I'm looking out for you," Jerry retorted. "Don't know if anybody else is, dragging you out here."

"Nobody dragged anybody anywhere," Bobby replied. "This is supposed to just be _fun_, remember?"

"It's not like I can't play," Jack objected, glaring at his teammate. "You're all so fucking annoying."

"Yeah, you've been in a hospital for the past day or so, that's all Jer means," Angel said, slowing rollerblading in his own bored circle. "Common sense, dumbass."

Jack was started to regret letting it known he was so achy and tired. "I'm fine, you dick."

"Yeah. You obviously have a great understanding of what's good for you, so I'll believe that."

Jack scowled. "Like you're the king of self preservation."

"I know the basics. Like humans need sleep. But maybe you're not human."

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Bobby interrupted, frowning at them. "It's like listening to two middle schoolers. Now I remember why my migraine goes away when I'm not in Detroit."

"Well, then your migraine will be gone at the end of the week," Jack muttered.

Bobby just looked at him.

Jerry glanced at his watch. "What time do you think we'll be here until?"

"Jerry, I'm sure Camille doesn't miss you yet," Bobby sighed. He looked down at Jack, who was sulking. "Did you catch your breath yet so we can start, fairy boy?"

Jack gave him a look. Then he sighed dramatically and began to get up. There was nothing Bobby was more persistent about than getting people to play hockey with him. And everybody would just start to argue if they didn't get into the game again soon. It was late, after all. "Yeah, let's go."

"Ahhh…." Bobby grinned. He headed back towards Angel with the ball, and Jack didn't miss him said curtly to their brother, "Go easy, alright?"

They lasted for almost another forty minutes, and Jack felt exhausted. He was really glad when Jerry started to complain about going home, because he didn't want to be the one to say he was tired again.

Angel's elbow was bleeding as they walked to the car. He looked at it, twisting his arm out in front of him, noticing the way it stained his shirt. Jack wanted to smirk at him, since Angel had knocked him down several times, and even though it was Jerry to get Angel this last time, it still felt good.

"Don't bleed on my car," Bobby warned Angel, wrinkling his nose as Angel wiped the blood off on his hand and then onto his jeans like it was nothing.

"Whatever, I'm pretty sure there's already blood in the back of your car," Angel answered.

"From what?" Jack asked, frowning.

"There's not," Bobby answered. "And whatever, don't bleed on my car."

The rollerblades were heavy in Jack's hands, but he was thrilled to have his sneakers back on. His ankles ached. His whole body ached. In truth it had been a lot of fun, but he felt completely drained. And still slightly high.

It was refreshing to just sit back in the car. He yawned widely as he slammed the door shut behind him, also pleased to have gotten the front seat again. At least a couple little things were going for him.

They were silent on the way back to Jerry's, all sweaty and tired. When Bobby pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, finally the silence was breached.

"Angel, you wanna come in for a second and put something on that?" Jerry asked as he pushed open his door.

Bobby twisted in his seat to look behind him. "Did he bleed on my seats?"

"No," Angel said, rolling his eyes. "For fuck's sake. I didn't."

"Come in for a second," Jerry urged. "I'll give you a towel or something."

"Fine." Angel unclipped his seatbelt. "Whatever."

"Hurry up," Bobby told him. He unclipped his own seatbelt for room and slouched down in the driver's seat, crossing his arms over his chest as the two left. The car doors slammed shut behind them. "God, I feel gross." He glanced at Jack. "That was good though, huh?"

"Yeah," Jack said with a nod.

"Feels good to sweat. And get out of the house."

Jack nodded again. A moment of silence passed between them. Then Jack asked slowly, "Can we go somewhere else?"

"Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere?"

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Bobby cleared his throat, unfolding his arms to pull up his shirt and wipe off his sweaty face with it. "Why, Jack?" He smoothed his shirt back down.

"Just to do something else."

"You know, if not tonight, then you'll have to talk to her tomorrow," Bobby told him.

"That's not why I asked that."

"Yeah, it is."

Jack leaned his head back against the headrest, staring out the window down the dark street. "Well, it's not…"

"Well, either way. Don't try to avoid it."

Jack swallowed. "I'm sorry for it all, I just want to forget about it…"

"Well, she's not gonna let you forget about it until she makes sure you're okay."

"I am okay."

"Yeah, well then act okay."

"I am."

Bobby said nothing, but tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and looked out the window to see whether he could see Angel coming back. A moment later, he looked back at his youngest brother and pressed his lips together. With a sigh, he said, "Jackie, one thing."

Jack glanced at him, and then realized there was something in Bobby's tone that was different. He fidgeted. "What?"

"Do me a favor." Bobby could see the nervousness start to emerge in Jack's eyes. He didn't really care.

"What?"

"Tell me…" Bobby glanced back towards the house. "What's in your pockets?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Bobby eyed him, keeping a hard gaze and waiting for Jack to blink. Jack always blinked or looked away.

"Yeah, nothing." Jack's eyes flitted towards the radio.

"You promise?"

Jack frowned at him, but nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

Bobby reached over, blatantly not believing the answer, and roughly patted his hand against Jack's baggy pockets, right and left. He could feel nothing and relented when Jack pushed his hand away.

"What do you want?" Jack asked in exasperation, unnerved with Bobby's physicality.

"What'd you do with the stuff in my room?"

Jack's brow furrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The stuff I took, Jack. Where is it?"

Jack quieted, and then said softly, slightly faltering, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fuck, Jack… We gotta start being honest, alright? It's a pain in the ass talking to you." Bobby frowned at him and then looked out his window again. He was almost glad Angel wasn't coming right away. With Angel in the car, Jack definitely wouldn't say a thing. "You gotta be honest with me, man. So tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"I know you took it back. I'm not stupid."

"Why do you think I go through your room?"

"You didn't go through my room. You went into my drawer. Exactly where you knew your shit was, and I know you took it back. So fucking tell me, or else Evelyn's gonna have more to talk to you about."

Jack made a face. "I don't have it _on_ me."

"Is it in my car?"

Jack didn't say anything.

"Is it in my car?" Bobby repeated. "Tell me, Jack, or so help me… Where is it?"

"Yeah." Jack paused, feeling Bobby's emerging anger. "Fine." He reached forward and yanked open the glove compartment. "There you go."

Bobby stared at it for a minute. "When'd you put it there?"

"When we got in the car," Jack admitted. He'd known it would be bulky in his pockets during the game, and had planned to sneak it back out of there as easily as he had snuck it in.

"What if I got pulled over?" Bobby asked.

Jack gave him a look. "For what?"

"Doesn't matter for what. What if I got pulled over?"

"You said that to Angel too about the seatbelts. Why would you get pulled over?" Jack wasn't sure what to say, because Bobby actually sounded irritated. He wasn't sure how to respond to it, because they weren't pulled over and he wasn't sure what the point was.

"They can search your car," Bobby told him stiffly. "Especially when someone sitting in it looks as fucking wasted as you."

"I do not look—"

"Doesn't matter what you think. I could get pulled over for a seatbelt or fucking taillight going out and then they find that and I'm screwed."

"That's so far fetched, Bobby."

"Far fetched? You wanna talk far fetched?" Bobby reached over to slap him across the side of the head. "How about not sleeping for days? How's that for far fetched? Shit happens."

Jack leaned away and said nothing.

"I took that from you for a reason. Because I don't want you to have it," Bobby said irritably. "And God damn if I can't make that decision. So don't think you can go behind my back, or Ma's back, or anybody's back, and then have the audacity to act like nothing's wrong."

Jack felt his heart sink into his gut. "If we got pulled over, I'd say it was mine."

"Great. So I'd get charged with corrupting a minor. Also sounds great."

Jack felt like shit. He wasn't sure what to say, so instead he looked at his still slightly reddened scraped hand. "Well, sorry…"

"You always apologize for everything," Bobby replied. "So it's meaningless."

Jack was quiet. Then he said, "But you gave me back the stuff in my room…"

"That was different," Bobby said stiffly.

Jack swallowed, rubbing at his hand, not sure how it was different. He glanced over at Bobby for just a second, watching him work his jaw. "Are you mad now too?"

"Yes," came the quick answer. "Not like that does anything." Bobby glared out the window of the car with a deep breath. He gripped the steering wheel and waited for Jack to say something else, but there was silence.

Jack said nothing. He realized everything he said just made it worse. He couldn't explain and not have things get worse. He already admitted that he took his stuff back, not like Bobby hadn't known. So what else was there to say? He didn't know how to explain what he always did.

The most frustrating thing was that he knew there was nothing he'd done that Bobby hadn't before. It was just a different situation and a different extreme. But Bobby had removed himself from teenage circumstances, and Jack didn't think he could get him to understand. He'd always felt closest to Bobby, but not at that moment…

"If you won't talk, I'm not gonna either," Bobby told him.

Jack was still silent.

"Fine," Bobby said a moment later. He spotted Angel in the dark. "Well, Angel's coming now anyway so just talk about it with Ma later..."

Jack didn't say a thing. Bobby looked over at him and realized the kid looked like he was about to cry.

"Jesus…" Bobby muttered. "Jack, gimme a break, will you?"

Jack didn't say anything.

"Are you upset? What are you upset about?" Bobby asked in exasperation.

"Nothing."

Bobby shook his head and instead watched Angel approach the car. He had his sleeve pushed up with a white bandage tied tightly around his elbow. He had almost approached the car when Bobby caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Jack reaching for the contents in the glove compartment.

"Hey," Bobby objected. Jack froze in his tracks, and Bobby took the initiative. He reached over and grabbed the stuff. Just as Angel was opening the car door to get in, Bobby was pushing his door open to get out.

"Where is he going?" Angel asked as he slid into the back seat.

Jack watched in slight dismay but more disappointment as Bobby walked along the curb towards the street gutter. When he reached it, he crouched down and shoved the small bag and pill bottle into the hole.

As he walked back to the car, Jack sat there sullenly, while Angel persisted, "What'd he just toss in there?"

Bobby got back into the car and turned the key in the ignition to start up the vehicle. He didn't say a word.

"What'd you throw down there?" Angel persisted.

"Nothing," Bobby answered.

"You throw garbage down there or something? That's bad for the pollution."

Bobby looked at him in the rear view mirror and shook his head as he pulled away from the curb. "No. Why would I throw garbage down the there?"

"I don't know."

"I don't even throw garbage in my car."

"Well, maybe because you throw it outside."

"No." Bobby rolled his eyes. "No, Angel, I don't."

"Alright, well good. I guess."

Jack was now just confused. Even though Bobby had taken it away once, he hadn't expected him to take it away twice _and _dump it down the drain.

Jack started to think about what it was like down the gutter. In the sewer pipe system. He had to think it was pretty cool. A whole different world. Maybe it was better down there.

Bobby noted Jack's quiet, brooding look, unsure what to do next. It wasn't really his business, he supposed, to figure out what to do. He assumed Evelyn had some master solution that would be superior to whatever Bobby's impatience brought out.

He started to wonder too if Evelyn would be up. He realized that like Jack, she was probably going to want to talk to him as well. Evelyn was not a woman to be contradicted, especially when it came to what she knew best, and that was handling complicated problems and handling complicated people.

Bobby hadn't meant to step on her toes with Jack, but at the time the protective nature in him had sprung out, even though there'd really been nothing to protect Jack from.

Bobby put the radio a little louder himself. He didn't want to talk about anything anymore.

It was a very quiet ride home.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks everyone for sticking this out with me. It's not that I haven't been writing, it was just I couldn't end it. And I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, but it'll have to do because this is getting way too long. Longest last chapter ever in fact, haha. But thanks to anyone who sent me kind words in the interim. I've been really anxious to finish this and get it posted. Please let me know what you think (in addition to the too long, crappy ending thing) **

**Chapter 17**

* * *

No matter how fast you drove, quiet rides still felt endless. 

Irony hit Bobby like a sledgehammer on the way home. He knew he was speeding, trying to end the unbearably tension-filled ride as soon as he could, but it was all too clichéd when he saw the lights flash behind him.

For a moment, he just paused. His heart skipped a beat, and he wishfully thought he would maybe see the cop car speed past him, focused on something else, something more important. But a moment later it was all too obvious that the lights were meant for him. The siren squealed.

"FUCK." Bobby pounded a fist down on the steering wheel.

Angel craned his neck to look out the back of the car at the sound of the siren, eyeing the cop with a frown. "Is he pulling you over?"

"Yes, he's pulling me over, you idiot," Bobby snapped. He slowed the car and started to pull up against the curb, almost in disbelief. "Fuck. Why now?" He looked in the rear view mirror at the cop parking right behind him and then looked at Angel. "Put on your seatbelt." He glanced at Jack. "You too. Both of you, now."

"He's not pulling you over for our seatbelts," Angel objected as he pulled his on hastily, clicking in the buckle while rolling his eyes. "Why are you so obsessed with that..."

Bobby knew seatbelts weren't the reason. It was his own fault he was getting pulled over, but it just felt so much easier to try to blame somebody else. He hated taken on the blame. He glanced back at Angel and then looked beside him to make sure Jack was buckling up as well.

"I've told you… They don't pull you over for that," Angel persisted.

Bobby put the car in park and turned off the engine. "Shut up."

Jack sat there frozen. He was terrified, and wasn't even sure why. Maybe because he was afraid Bobby would get out of the car and deck the cop for pulling him over, allowing his anger to take over. At the same time, through the fear, he felt some relief that Bobby had tossed his stuff down a drain just moments earlier. If not, he would probably be having a coronary.

Bobby sighed and rolled down his window. He felt boiling inside. It was the worst timing for this to happen. Not like there was ever a great time to be pulled over, but after everything that had gone on recently, he had enough on his mind. He wanted nothing more than to just get home...

It's your own fault, dumbass, he reminded himself. Don't take it out on Angel and Jack. They're not driving, you are.

He eyed the cop in the mirror and realized the guy looked familiar. As the middle-aged man with a moustache approached the car, Bobby tried to place his name, knowing he'd had some kind of run in with him before. Unable to place it just yet, he reached for his wallet in his back pocket.

"Hands where I can see them," the cop said sternly as he reached the window. "All of you."

Bobby put his hands back on the steering wheel with a small sense of exasperation and turned his head to look up at the officer. As he met his eye, he saw the recognition cross the man's face.

"Robert Mercer…. Bobby," the cop said. "Is that you?"

Bobby scrutinized him, then nodded, the man's voice slipping in the final clue he needed. "It's Frances, right? Hello, Frances."

"That's Frank, Bobby. Officer Frank Credio. I haven't seen you around in a while." He squinted into the car. "These your brothers?"

"Do they look like my brothers?" Bobby returned.

With a sigh, the cop simply rolled his eyes and continued. "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you were bored."

"On the contrary. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Speedometer's broke. So I can't really say…. Are you going to write a ticket or just lecture me?" Bobby replied. "Because if you couldn't tell by my speeding, I'm kind of in a hurry."

"I doubt that." The radio on the officer's belt mumbled out something intermittent with static. "Where are you coming from?"

"Just playing hockey."

"This time of night?"

"Yes." Bobby rolled his eyes. "You sound like my mother."

"Where you headed now in such a rush?"

"You need my license and registration, or what?"

Jack then realized that the car registration was always in the glove compartment. What if that whole conversation hadn't happened before and Bobby had to open the compartment, revealing the bag of weed? But then again, maybe Bobby was speeding _because _of that whole conversation. Regardless, it put him on edge.

"Can you get out of the car, please?" the cop persisted. "Let's have a little chat."

"Are you kidding me?" Bobby let out a frustrated breath. He realized the cop wasn't kidding and unbuckled his seatbelt, pushing open his door.

As Bobby got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him, Jack turned to look at Angel. He could see out the back as Bobby walked several feet away with the police officer, looking pissed off. The cop's mouth was moving with words Jack wished he could hear and their brother had his arms crossed over his chest.

"Okay, whatever Bobby was ticked off about before," Angel began, "multiply it by about a million. And by two million if he actually gets a ticket. Which he will because he's being a fucking dick, as usual."

Jack frowned, continuing to watch the conversation between the two outside. "Was he going that fast?"

"Yeah," Angel admitted. "But he always goes fast."

Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"It's the whole asshole attitude that's the problem."

Jack didn't answer for a moment. He watched Bobby and Officer Credio for another moment before looking at Angel, who was now scrutinizing the bandage around his elbow. Slowly, Jack asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah, sure." Angel shifted his attention off his arm and back to Jack. "What?"

With his conscience eating him, Jack began to open up, voice low. He hesitantly explained how Bobby had gone through his room, how things had been found, and then how he'd gotten the stash back. Only to have it on him and in the car, causing even more of an issue. He tried to explain it all, feeling like he was making no sense at all. Finally he finished summarizing his guilt.

"Dude, he threw that down the drain?" Angel made a face, focusing on just one part of the story. "That _sucks_. How much was it?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, a good amount…"

"Damn. And you told me you didn't have anything on you. Liar."

"Yeah, well..." Jack paused. "My point is what if I'd still had it and they searched the car?"

"Yeah, well then Bobby might have killed you, but it's gone and the guy didn't even _glance_ in the car."

"Yeah…" Jack made a face. That really didn't make him feel any better. "I really think the whole chance of it is the big deal. That's what I'm worried about."

"It's his fault he was speeding. You didn't tell him to speed. His whole 'what if we get pulled over' is complete bullshit, because it's his fault if we are. There's really no _we_ at all. You weren't driving. I wasn't driving. He was."

"Yeah… I know that."

"Grow a spine. I don't know why you're afraid of him."

"I'm not."

"So don't worry about it. It's his problem. If he's in the right mood, Bobby gets mad when somebody _breathes_ the wrong way. But it has to be big for him to really be mad at somebody for real. I don't think he's ever been actually mad at you."

Jack shrugged.

"Trust me," Angel said. "You've gotta do something _big _for him to be mad."

"I did."

"No, I mean like kill somebody. Not sleeping is hardly something for him to hold against you."

Jack rolled his eyes. He appreciated Angel's attempt to make him feel better, but it wasn't completely helping. "Lying to him about drugs isn't on his favorite list either."

"Well… Not sharing drugs isn't one of my favorites, and I'm not mad at you." Angel shrugged. "It's no big deal. It's a small deal. And like I said," Angel persisted, "he got himself pulled over. Not you."

There was really not much else to say. Jack didn't know if he could characterize everything that had gone on as a 'small deal' like Angel had, but he decided there wasn't much left to the conversation about it all anyway.

Angel looked behind the car again. "I wonder what the cop is going on about."

"He's not writing a ticket, whatever it is," Jack said after he looked as well.

"Not yet anyway."

"Maybe he won't."

"If I was a cop and Bobby acted like that to me, I'd sure as hell write him a ticket. Maybe even two."

ooooooooooooo

"Understand?" Officer Credio ended.

"Yeah, I understand," Bobby replied with a nod, brow furrowed. He hadn't listened to a word of the man's spiel, but couldn't help but feel thankful that no ticket had been written. He thought the guy knowing him, and his record, would go against him so he hadn't even tried to talk his way out of anything; but apparently luck was slightly in his favor for some unknown reason. It was about time luck was on his side.

"Good, well then take your brothers home and good luck with hockey."

"Thanks." Bobby nodded. "Have a good night." He watched the officer walk away and get back into the squad car before turning to walk back towards his own car. Angel and Jack were completely silent as he got back into the vehicle.

After a moment, Angel was the brave one. "How much of a ticket?"

"A million dollars," Bobby replied, pulling his seatbelt on. He turned the key in the ignition and flipped the radio off as the sound came back on. He watched in his mirrors, wanting the cop to pull away first.

Angel paused. "He didn't give you one?"

"I didn't say that."

Angel felt a little relieved. "I can tell he didn't. You never even took out your license. That's pretty lucky."

"Lucky," he echoed. It didn't make Bobby feel any better. Well, perhaps slightly. But the heat he felt from being pulled over in the first place still lingered. That wouldn't fade for at least a little while. But he had to at least try to let the luckiness of it make him feel better. "I don't know why he didn't write a ticket actually."

"Your charm, maybe?" Angel replied wryly.

Bobby ignored him. He watched the cop car finally pull away and zip down the street.

"And he knew who you were," Angel added.

"Yeah, wasn't expecting that either."

"You know, with whatever I've done," Jack spoke up, "at least not every random cop recognizes me."

Annoyed, Bobby gave him a look. "You think that's fucking funny?"

After a quick, "No," Jack quieted, drumming his fingers against the car door beside him.

"He's right, Bobby," Angel pointed out with a slight smirk. "When a random cop pulling you over knows your full name, that's something. Pretty impressive.

Bobby knew he was right. And Jack was right in his comment too, as facetious as it was. Jack rarely got in trouble with police. His trouble was a different kind. Not to mention that if they could help it, none of them would ever let Jack near anything or anyone that would get him into serious trouble. Bobby realized this and was angry at himself more than anyone else, but that was still anger nonetheless.

Jack was staring out the window now, forehead pressed against the glass with an obvious desire for a change of subject, but Bobby persisted, somehow feeling it in his right.

"So what if he wanted to see my license and registration, Jack?" he began. "And I had to go in there to get it." He reached over and patted the glove compartment. "Huh?"

"You got rid of it all," Jack said.

"And what, that's _luck _again?" Bobby replied. "Wow, I'm such a lucky man. No ticket, no _drug bust_. Everything's just falling into place today. Maybe I ought to stop and buy a lottery ticket on the way home. Whattaya think?"

"Bobby, whatever," Angel said. "Quit giving him a hard time and let's go home. You got rid of his shit, and what a waste I might add, so whatever. And you didn't even get a ticket. It's over."

"Hindsight's great, isn't it?" Bobby retorted. "And what do you mean, what a waste? You like it when he's fucked up or something?"

"It's just not as big a deal as you're suddenly making it."

Bobby looked at him in the rear view mirror. "Not a big deal until somebody's stupid, and he's stupid. Plus we're supposed to look out for him, so you being a pusher doesn't thrill me. Fun is one thing, encouragement is another.

"I'm not pusher, and what the hell are you getting mad for? Bobby, you were the one speeding to begin with," Angel said.

"It's not just that," Bobby answered. "It's the whole combination of it. And you can give me the 'it's no big deal' spiel and call me a hypocrite all you want, but it's my fucking car and you're my fucking brothers so if I want to be mad about it, I can be mad about it."

A moment of silence passed. Bobby sat there thinking. He really didn't want to get them to where they were before. He didn't want to argue about it, any of it, or get so heated about it that Jack got that teary look again and there was all that silence. And he didn't want Angel to have to stick up for Jack, who wouldn't stick up for himself

But he couldn't just leave it either. And they were already having that awkward silence. It seemed like step one of the same downward spiral.

"Yeah, so let me just say," he continued, feeling the need to somehow just end it without just leaving it unanswered. "The whole recreational drug thing. Whatever. Been there, done that, understand it. But…" He looked straight at Jack, "I think you're in enough shit that you could just realize, or maybe it might just once cross your peabrain mind, that it's stupid to put yourself in these situations."

Jack exhaled loudly, fogging up the window with his breath. He wiped his hand across the glass to clear it.

"Jack," Bobby persisted.

"I'm listening," Jack answered.

"You feel you need it or like it, I'm telling you you're wrong, but okay, fine, figure that one out for yourself at some point. But you don't bring your shit where you can get caught. You don't hide it in my car, you don't bring it out with you and take chances, and you sure as fuck don't bring it to school."

"He's not stupid," Angel said.

"Yeah, but he's done _all _of those things, Angel. He does it all the time. You wanna see him in juvie?"

"He's not selling, it's not a big deal. And with you advice, then what, he should smoke up in his room so Ma can enjoy it?"

"No…" Bobby leaned his head back, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "You two make my life so difficult."

"I understand what you're saying, Bobby," Jack said, looking at his frustrated brother and wanting just to end the confrontation. "I get it."

"You say you get it just to make me shut up, but think about it." Bobby turned his head to look at him. "Ma's pissed enough as it is with me stepping over her to bring you out tonight—imagine we come back with some possession charge or something worse against one of us?"

"But we didn't," Jack said.

"It's about the situation, Jack. I feel like I can't trust you," Bobby told him. "You wouldn't even tell me whether you had anything or where it was. What if there was more and they searched the car?"

"That was all of it."

Bobby simply shook his head. "That's not the point." He put the car in drive and started to slowly pull away from the curb, letting another car pass before he pulled into the street, driving at a more reasonable speed.

"That was all of it," Jack insisted.

"How do I know that?" Bobby replied. "I don't. Maybe you won't tell me because you don't want me to take it away. And maybe I have no right to do that." He stopped at the upcoming light. "You're high, Angel's bleeding. I'm bringing back a mess. At least I'm not drunk. Maybe I should be."

Neither Angel or Jack replied, and Bobby reached to turn the radio back on. Bobby's mood would improve sooner or later. At least they were now close to home.

ooooooooooooo

Jack was admittedly nervous when the car finally pulled back up to their house and they started for the front door. He really wanted the night to be over. It seemed like everything continued to be messy. Even going to play hockey, which was supposed to be fun, got complicated. It had been fun in itself, but the surrounded events cast a shadow, making him wish he'd never even gone.

Angel pounded up the stairs as soon as they got inside, mumbling something about calling some girl, and Jack watched Bobby drop his rollerblades in the corner of the hall tiredly.

He then decided maybe they should talk. He was really afraid that Bobby was still angry. Or that he would spill everything to Evelyn without knowing any of the reasons for what happened, making everything worse. And Jack wanted to at least explain his reasons, but what were the real reasons? He wasn't sure. Regardless, he knew Bobby always confided everything in Evelyn. He could keep a secret from anyone but her.

And beyond his fear of all that, he just wanted to get rid of the uneasy nervousness he felt. Sometimes talking did that.

Hesitant, Jack watched Bobby slide off his sneakers and kick them over with the rollerblades.

"Bobby…" he started. He didn't feel they were right yet from before, and wasn't sure how to start.

"Nope, kiddo, I'm done…" Bobby shook his head and turned to face him. He didn't even want to know what Jack was going to say. Rubbing his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble, he sad firmly, "Just go talk to Mom and then go to bed."

Jack made a face. It was quiet and he wondered if Evelyn was even up. He hoped not, but at the same time, that just left him dreading tomorrow. "But…"

"Don't give me that look or pull your act, I'm just tired." Bobby walked past him, and Jack hesitated a second before following him. He wasn't sure whether to follow because it meant he might come across Evelyn in the next room. Almost holding his breath, he was relieved to see that the TV was off and the room was empty. That meant she had probably gone to bed, not surprising since it was fairly late.

"Don't follow me," Bobby persisted, sensing Jack trailing behind him. "I'm going to shower and you're not invited."

"I don't think she's up," Jack told him.

"Fine, then go to bed," Bobby answered with a little bit of exasperation. "I know you're tired."

"I'm sorry," Jack persisted. "About the whole thing in the car. Can we just talk?"

Bobby turned around, causing Jack to stop short in his tracks. "Stop following me. Understand? We talked enough. Now go to bed."

Jack just stood there.

"It's late, Jack… I'm tired. I'm sweaty. I'm in a weird mood. I really need to sort my head." Bobby shook his head. "I really have nothing good to say so let's not do this. You need to go to bed."

Jack knew Bobby didn't feel like arguing, and neither did he. He really just wanted to talk and clear his head with somebody, thinking that would probably be best in terms of feeling better, but it didn't seem like Bobby was in the mood for that. He couldn't blame him, after everything that had happened, so he just kind of nodded.

"Go to bed," Bobby repeated.

"Alright," Jack agreed. "Night…"

"Night." Bobby watched him walk away and sighed. He almost wanted to tell Jack to hold up, giving in and letting them talk more, but he knew it wouldn't get them anywhere. It was too late and they both just needed some rest. He didn't want to argue with him again, yet was feeling too exhausted to be able to promise himself he wouldn't.

Ten minutes later Bobby found himself a bit more relaxed, taking a long hot shower. He felt the stress of the car ride fade away. Instead of what was going on with his little brother, he thought about the fact that the four of them had been able to get together and play some hockey. It had been a long time since that had happened, and they'd actually, despite extenuating circumstances, had a good time.

He tiredly changed into the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd brought with him into the now humid and fogged up bathroom. He picked up his sweaty clothes from their pile on the floor, mentally reminding himself to do laundry the next day.

When he walked back into his bedroom, with all intentions just to go to bed, he found himself stopping in the doorway, a little surprised to find Jack sitting there on the edge of his bed, still up and with a morose look on his face. He'd taken a pretty long shower, and Bobby thought for sure that the kid would have been passed out in his own bed by now. It was kind of frustrating to have to tell him again it wasn't a good time to talk.

"Jackie-boy," Bobby began, leaning in the doorway. "Look, man, go to bed." He ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed. "Alright?"

"Okay, I will, but I've just been thinking…" Jack began in a low voice, bowing his head down a little bit like he always did to avoid eye contact when having a conversation. "You know, about what Mom and I started talking about before. She actually made a lot of sense."

"Yeah? She normally does." Bobby decided he would give him a minute, but that was it. He didn't want to sit up with Jack all night; he was too tired and wasn't even sure what to say to him anymore. He was interested in what Jack might say but was beyond knowing how to respond. "What was it you guys were talking about?" He walked across the room to put his dirty clothes down.

"About why I do it," Jack answered. "I never really thought about it, or at least never analyzed it, but I guess it was kinda obvious. I mean, at least she understood it was a kind of a relief…. Something I did when I just really needed something else to think about. And it's really just the easiest thing to do when I need that, because it works. It really works. And you just kinda get used to it, you know? Because it actually helps."

"What works?" Bobby replied as he eyed his pile of dirty laundry disappointedly. There was really more than he thought. Maybe it would be a few loads of laundry tomorrow. He'd been mentally reminding himself the whole week to do laundry, but of course, it always came down to the last minute.

"Well, I was thinking about how she said it, and how she tried to explain it to herself, which was good. It was almost like she was explaining it to me. She didn't just say…" he trailed off. "Well, the point is that really …. Like, there's other ways to do it, or to feel better, and they aren't so… Well, maybe they're more normal? I don't know if you know what I mean. Other ways to feel better."

Bobby turned and looked at him. He'd been listening, but felt like he hadn't been. He had no idea what Jack was talking about. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't even think I really realized the reasons I did it until she said it to herself, you know?" Jack persisted, finally looking up at Bobby. "I mean, I guess I knew, or knew what it was doing, but it wasn't really until she really said it out loud… that it _made sense_. And then I felt kinda stupid. When you say it out loud, it really does sound stupid."

"Kiddo… I have no idea what you're going on about." Bobby studied him, watching the way Jack sat there stiffly, and suddenly noticed the way his right hand was gripping his left forearm. That was when he noticed the reddish smear on his hand.

Bobby frowned. "Hey, Jack," he started, walking towards him.

"But my _point_, and yeah I do have one," Jack continued, "is that I think I need to find something else…" His voice trembled just slightly towards the end of the sentence. "I need to do it another way. Feel better another way... Because…" He looked up at Bobby, brow furrowed. "This isn't working. Especially this time. It's not working."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," Bobby told him. "What's on your hand? Are you bleeding?"

Jack didn't move as Bobby got closer. He swallowed and instead asked, "Didn't you hear what I said? I want to know what you think."

"I did hear you. And I just told you I have no clue what you're talking about. But why are you bleeding?" Bobby reached out to his arm. "Show me. Is it your hand or your arm?"

Jack let him move his hand and slowly revealed his left arm.

Bobby stared at Jack's arm, eyes trailing from the palm of his hand to the inside of his wrist and his forearm, which was now smeared with blood. He reached down and wiped away some of the blood with his own fingers, eyeing the short, fine cuts, maybe five of them, all in a neat row, parallel to each other.

Straight and deliberate.

As he stared, he saw a new trickle of blood form on one of the cuts.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bobby sputtered out, forgetting everything Evelyn had said about acceptance, and attitude, and reassurance and all that other apparent bullshit that didn't work. "Seriously, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Jack pulled his arm back, suddenly regretting his transgression, and held his arm against his shirt. Maybe his explanation hadn't come out right. Didn't Bobby understand what he was trying to say? What he was asking for? "I didn't mean for it to be like that…" he said. "I didn't mean to do it like that this time, you know?"

"No. I don't _know_." Bobby wiped his hand against his sweatpants, rubbing off the blood and shaking his head. "What the hell, Jack… That's your stress relief? That's what you're talking about? Your _distraction_?"

Jack frowned, exhaling deeply and lifting his hand up to rub at his jaw, inadvertently smearing his own blood onto his cheek. "It's not that easy to explain. But… Well, yeah…" He faltered at Bobby's reaction. "You never actually want to talk to me, do you? You only say you do, until I want to. And then you never understand."

"I'm getting Evelyn. I can't just… I don't know what to say to you…" Bobby told him. But he didn't move. He was afraid to move just yet. So he just watched him, unsure what to do. Unsure why Jack did what he did. A stress relief? Bobby was clueless as to how scarring yourself could possibly ever reduce stress. In fact, didn't it just leave reminders of the pain you felt? "What am I supposed to say to you?"

"I just wanted to talk before," Jack replied, frown deepening. "And I couldn't talk, so I had to think, and then I had to do _something_ to get rid of the thoughts."

"You did this because I didn't want to talk? Bullshit. Don't put it on me, Jack." Bobby reached down and took Jack's arm again, pulling it away from his chest. His shirt now had a few splotches of blood on it. "God… Do you need stitches?"

"No," Jack replied. That was a ridiculous question.

"Maybe you do," Bobby persisted. "Why did you do this?"

"I just… I just needed to. I'm kinda used to it," Jack replied helplessly. "I'm just so used to doing it… Or something. It feels really weird not to. If I don't, later I just feel _more_ like I need to do it. That's what I wanted to finally try to explain to you." Jack felt powerless. Didn't Bobby understand how hard this was to explain? His heart was pounding. Didn't he understand at all what kind of power it meant to give up?

"It looks deep," was all Bobby said.

"It's not," Jack replied defensively. "I thought maybe it was, but—Forget it." Jack pulled his arm away and dropped his hands to his lap. "It's fine."

"Tell me you didn't do this just to get me to talk to you."

"No. I just needed to feel it. That's what I'm trying to tell you. So before you get like you were the last time, you have to know that it felt good. That's why I do it. It makes me feel better, and I just have to do it."

"Does it feel good now?"

Jack shrugged. "No..."

"I don't get you," Bobby replied. "I really don't. I guess I'm supposed to be understanding or something through whatever this is, whatever complex you have now, but let me tell you… It's hard to do that when you go butcher yourself. Do you really expect me to be able to have a conversation with you about this?"

"No," Jack admitted. He'd hoped for it, but hadn't really expected it. Talk, everyone told him. Open up. You'll feel better. Yeah… Right. Now he just felt guilty.

"No," Bobby echoed. "Then why did you do it?"

After a second's pause, Jack simply said, "I already told you."

"It's when you're stressed," Bobby answered. "Alright. That part I get."

Jack rubbed his arm against his shirt.

Bobby didn't understand at all. He studied him for a second longer and then turned away. "Okay, let's get Mom," he said as he moved away from the bed, towards the door. "C'mon. Enough of this… I just don't know what to do with you."

Jack slid off the bed with a little alarm. "Bobby, it's late," he objected. Realizing his brother meant it, he started after him. "Don't."

"It wasn't too late for you to come in here though, was it?" Bobby replied, ignoring the protest and walking out of the room.

Jack followed him. "You were up. And I knew you were up. That's different."

"I wasn't up for this," Bobby replied, turning to face him. "Why'd you have to come to me with this?"

Jack didn't answer right away. He stood there in front of him and gave a half frown as he studied the carpet. "I don't know." He had a lot of reasons. Like because sometimes Bobby could really talk to him, and he was hoping for one of those times. Or because Bobby told him in the car he didn't trust him, and Jack wanted that trust back. But in all, it was just a final release, a well needed release despite the fact it went against all instincts he had to hide this compulsion.

Bobby was almost glad Jack didn't give a real answer as he realized it was a stupid question. Shouldn't he want Jack to come to him? What was he supposed to do—get lost inside of himself and not tell anybody? That was exactly what they were trying to get him _not _to do. But still, inside Bobby felt like he was the last person to approach.

He had no idea what to say without calling Jack an idiot. He wasn't sure if waking Evelyn up was even a good idea. He wasn't sure what that could accomplish at this time of night. He struggled with it for a moment, wondering if she would want to be up for this. He couldn't decide. So instead he took the easiest approach and stuck with what he was used to. The physical problem.

"Come on." Bobby nodded his head towards the kitchen. "Follow me."

Jack followed him warily and said. "It's not a big deal."

"Right."

"It's not," Jack persisted as he walked behind him. "I just thought—"

"Thought nothing," Bobby replied. "Because if you thought, then maybe you'd realize that anything involving making yourself bleed might not be the best idea."

"It's like a temporary thing. You don't get it." Jack sighed. "Do I not make any sense at all?"

"None." Bobby walked across the kitchen towards the sink. "Temporary until what?"

"It's just a quick thing."

Rolling his eyes, Bobby pulled off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll sitting on the counter and ran the water at the sink, dampening the sheets. He turned and handed them to Jack. "Here. I hate blood. Clean it up."

Jack acquiesced, taking the paper towels and pressing it against his arm. "Are you—"

"Don't ask me if I'm mad. I'm sick of you asking me if I'm mad." Bobby turned off the faucet.

"That's not what I was going to ask," Jack replied, watching the paper towel soak up the drops of blood on his arm. He kind of liked watching it.

"What were you going to ask then?"

"Whether you're going to get Mom."

Bobby looked at him and leaned against the counter. "I'd rather she talk to you than me. What do you think? You wanna talk to her?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it was," Jack said with a sigh, looking at Bobby for a moment. He glanced at his arm and then appeared thoughtful.

Bobby looked at the smear of blood on Jack's face. "Actually, it's pretty bad." He watched the way Jack stared at his own arm, and it reminded him of how when he was a kid and got a scrape or papercut or something similar, how the urge was always there to watch the blood bubble up and ooze from the wound.

It was sick. But seeing blood on any other person always bothered him much more than anything on himself. He'd been through plenty of bumps and bruises and gashes, for a variety of reasons; some actually that might have been considered something he'd done to himself. But regardless, seeing any kind of bump on someone else always made him wince a little bit and want to look away.

"Why would you show me this?" Bobby asked. "Here." He reached over and patted Jack's cheek, where the blood was. "You got blood there."

Jack rubbed the paper towel against his jaw, wiping away the crimson smudge.

"You hid everything. Why would you show me this tonight?" Bobby persisted. He started to wonder if bandaids would be appropriate. Then he started to wonder if even stitches would be appropriate. He doubted it. He'd had worse cuts from hockey injuries without stitches. This was just a nick compared. But still…

"I didn't even really know I'd done it…" Jack admitted. "Until… Well, after. And it's something I know I have to stop so you don't have to tell me that."

"Didn't that scare you?"

Jack shrugged. "A little. It didn't surprise me though. I guess I kinda knew. It was just I didn't think about it until after. Does that make sense? I kind of watched myself do it."

"No," Bobby replied. Screw this understanding thing, he thought. Evelyn was normally right, but now it seemed full of crap. Why should he lie to Jack? He never lied to Jack. And it didn't make sense at all. He wasn't going to tell him he understood when it sounded to him like another language.

Jack looked slightly disappointed, and Bobby tried to change his demeanor to look less judgmental. He guessed that that's what he looked like. He didn't understand, but he could at least act like he wanted to.

"You're not doing this because you know I'm leaving," Bobby began. "Are you?"

"No," Jack scoffed.

"Because you always seem to do something stupid, or at least more stupid than usual, when I'm about to go."

"No, I don't."

"Last time I was home you disappeared my entire last day here. You didn't even say good bye to me."

"How is that stupid?"

"Ma had no clue where you were."

Jack shrugged. He kind of recalled the time Bobby was referring to. And recalled being completely stoned out of his mind that day. But he didn't say that. Instead he said, "I'm sure I just had something better to do."

"You never have something better to do."

That dug into Jack the wrong way and he scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Bobby answered. "But your idea of a good time recently seems to be all sorts of fucking yourself up."

"No."

"No? Well recent evidence says otherwise."

"You don't know anything."

Bobby sighed. "Yeah? Then what's your idea of a good time?"

Jack thought about it. It was actually an interesting question.

"Where would you like to be right now, if you had to pick," Bobby persisted. This was good, he thought. A slight change of subject while he didn't know what to say yet.

"A concert," Jack answered.

"Seeing one of your gay bands?"

Jack glared at him, or more at his shoe, still not looking Bobby directly in the eye. "No… I mean, me. I want to do it. That would be a good time."

"Well, I guess being in an actual band you can definitely be fucked up all the time, right?" Bobby answered. "That's what rockstars do. So what a shocking choice of a good time that is."

Jack glowered at Bobby but didn't respond. Of course his brother would ridicule his answer.

"So you talked to Ma about it?" Bobby asked.

"About my band?"

"You don't have a band," Bobby replied. "One high loser and a shitty guitar does not a band make."

"Forget it," Jack replied irritably. "Forget about it all." He moved away from the counter but froze when Bobby reached out and caught his arm. "Let go, Bobby."

"Nah, listen, I'm sorry," Bobby objected, squeezing his arm. "You know I don't mean it. I asked the question because I wanted to know the answer, and it's dick of me to then make fun of it."

Jack wasn't sure he meant it, because that was all Bobby ever did. Quips and jokes like he really didn't give a shit about what anyone was really talking about.

"You're too fucking sensitive," Bobby persisted, letting him go and patting him on the chest. "You make it too Goddamn easy, you know that? Ang fights back. You just give up. It's no fun."

"If it's no fun, then stop."

Bobby smirked, and then thought about Jack's words. "Hm, stop. Good advice," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Don't you think?"

Jack scowled. "Don't try to be deep with me, Bobby."

"Fuck that. I'm not trying to be deep at all. I just think that's good advice. If you realize something ain't right, you stop."

"It's not even advice. It doesn't make sense. Like… School's not fun. Why don't I stop that too?"

"Because it's the law. And you know Ma will never let you drop out. But I'm talking about the other not fun things. Like playing tic-tac-toe on your skin."

"Things have purposes, Bobby," Jack replied touchily. "People don't like doctors but it's so that you stay healthy. People don't like dentists but otherwise all your teeth fall out."

"That's such a different thing."

"No, it's not."

"It is. Why do you need to do anything to yourself? What's gonna happen if you don't? Your teeth won't fall out."

Jack paused. "I'll go crazy."

"No you won't."

"I will," Jack persisted. "And I'll find something else. I said I would, so I will. But that's what's there right now and that's all there is to it. You don't get it, but I need it. I need to feel it. Until I can find something else."

"Okay…" Bobby tried to understand. "Then what were you so upset about that you did it?"

Jack shrugged.

"You don't even know, do you?" Bobby answered. "That's the frustrating part. I mean, sure shit happened. Like in the car. But that's me, Jack. Why would you get upset about me? I wasn't even mad. Not really."

"It wasn't you."

Bobby didn't believe him. He knew he was part of it. But he didn't believe it was just him alone either. He had to admit that actually talking about it felt a lot better than arguing about it, and tried to remind himself not to push Jack's buttons with the teasing. It was chance enough the kid was being open. He started to regret not agreeing to talk to Jack before his shower. Then this wouldn't have happened. But then maybe there wouldn't have been anything to directly talk about.

A moment of silence passed between them.

Bobby knew there had to be a way to get Jack to understand how they saw it. Why they judged it. Why they potentially got angry or frustrated over it. And not as a reason to hide it, but just to understand how it was perceived.

"What do you think the hospital would say if we went there right now?" Bobby asked.

"I don't need stitches," Jack answered. He held the paper towel dumbly against his arm, unsure whether he was still bleeding or not. Regardless of Bobby questioning the need for stitches, the cuts were not at all deep, and would probably just look like scratches by morning.

"Maybe not. But don't you think they'd be concerned?"

Jack frowned.

"Do you think Ma would be concerned?" Bobby persisted.

Jack paused. "Not until tomorrow."

"That's if she finds out tomorrow. What if we just woke her up now?"

"Bobby, it's late…" Jack's eyes found the digital clock on the microwave. "Don't."

"Something tells me she'll feel wide awake once she sees you."

Jack shook his head.

"Didn't you think I'd tell her when you showed me?" Bobby asked. "I mean, I think she'd be much better at knowing what to do right now." He looked at the bloody paper towels. "Where's Ma keep bandaids and all that?"

"In the bathroom."

"Upstairs or down here?"

Jack shrugged. "Both I guess."

"Let's go upstairs then," Bobby replied.

Jack looked at him in surprise. "No," he protested.

"Why not?"

"Because." Jack squirmed. "I'll show her tomorrow."

"Will you?"

"I showed you."

"True," Bobby admitted. He wasn't sure why that was. Or what to do now. Did he just clean him up and tell him to go to bed? Or did he stay up with him and try to figure things out? He wasn't sure. "Alright, down here then." He moved away from the counter.

Jack followed him "You really won't wake her up?"

"No," Bobby replied. "I don't really want to either," he admitted. "It is late and I don't want her freaking out. She's gotta go to work tomorrow. And you should be going to school though I doubt anyone'll wake you in the morning."

He reached the bathroom and pushed open the door, flipping on the light. Opening the medicine cabinet, he glanced along the tiny shelves, past the Pepto Bismol and Tylenol, and found a box of Bandaids. He pulled it out and opened the box, eyeing the different sizes. Then he moved over and flipped down the lid of the toilet. "Sit."

Jack took the box from him. "I can do it," he said.

"I know." Bobby watched him sit down and then moved to sit on the wall of the bathtub himself. He eyed the bloody paper towels in Jack's hand with a frown. "God…" He still couldn't believe it. "You're such an idiot. I don't even know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." Jack wiped off some new blood and then dropped the paper towel on the sink counter beside him. He pulled a bandaid out of the box and ripped the paper off the edge, feeling awkward to have Bobby watching him but not quite wanting him to leave yet. He put the bandaid on slowly.

Then he glanced up at his brother as he pulled out a second bandaid, feeling a little guilty. "You can go back to bed if you want." He didn't mean it, but felt obliged.

Bobby sighed. "No… Not yet."

There was hesitation there and Jack said, "But you'd rather go to bed."

Bobby shrugged. "Depends."

Jack pressed his lips together and carefully placed the next bandaid on his arm. "I won't do anything else."

"You always say that."

"But I feel fine now."

"Yeah." Bobby rolled his eyes. "Right… Well, that's not completely why I want to stay up a little bit anyway."

"Then why?" Jack eyed the two bandaids lined up beside each other. He reached into the box for a third.

"Because maybe I just feel I shouldn't yet."

"Why?"

"Because."

Jack eyed him, holding the third bandaid stiffly. "Because you don't trust me."

"I didn't say that."

"You said it earlier."

"Well, that's different," Bobby began. "I can tell when I can't trust you. I know when you're lying. And it's usually about something serious."

"That's bullshit." Jack ripped open the bandaid packaging. He rolled his eyes and began to realize how stupid his arm was looking with all of these bandaids. He normally wore long sleeves to hide his arms and how he would have more of a reason to make sure he did tomorrow.

"Jack…" Bobby sighed, realizing that in order to feel like he could go to bed, he had to start to be a bit more serious with his little brother. He always took people's problems in stride, almost underestimating the issues. It was easier to distract, both himself and the troubled person, with something else, but that in itself was almost Jack's problem.

"I'm glad you're talking to me…" he continued. "Especially since I gave you such a hard time earlier… You know sometimes you don't give me a choice. But either way, you know you can always talk to me."

Jack stuck down one last bandaid, hearing in Bobby's tone that the guy was probably going to try to say something meaningful. He wasn't sure what to expect, nor what he had been hoping to hear from Bobby by approaching him tonight after doing this to himself. It could have gone either way.

Shifting his weight a little, Bobby leaned forward to rest his elbows against his knees. "I guess this whole thing tonight shouldn't surprise me, right?" he asked. "You've done a lot of the unexpected this past week, Jack."

Jack shrugged, crumbling up the bandaid wrappers to throw into the small trash bin.

"I guess what I really don't get… Or what bothers me…" Bobby continued, hesitating slightly. "Well, I'll try to explain how I think of things. Or what it all goes back to with me since I always seem to fixate on something..." He paused. "Do you remember what I said to you when you first came here?"

Jack paused and then shook his head.

"No?" Bobby made a face. "Well, this was way back when you first came here, and I don't remember exactly what we were talking about, but sometime during the conversation I told you that nobody would ever hurt you again," he explained. "And I promised to make sure of that. And I meant it. Remember?"

Jack didn't reply, but remembered vividly.

"And even if I'm not always here, and even when I've got stuff going on with hockey or something," Bobby persisted, "I guess I still feel that way… Like it's a promise I made. And I _always _keep promises. But it's really hard to keep that promise when it's _you _doing the hurting... What I'm supposed to do then. You know?"

"Yeah…" Jack said softly.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Bobby continued. "I mean, we both went through the same thing, you know… And you wait for what feels like forever until people don't hurt you anymore. Until they can't hurt you. And I don't get why when that day comes, after you have it so much better, why you would turn around and become what those people were to you. I don't get that at all."

"No," Jack answered. "That's not how it works."

"I don't see how it's different."

"It's very different."

"How?"

Jack shrugged. "It doesn't hurt."

"Jack, you're _bleeding_. How did it not hurt? You're lying to yourself if you say that."

"But it didn't hurt," Jack persisted. "It's completely different."

"Well, then tell me how?"

Jack shook his head.

Bobby knew that Jack wasn't going to be able to put it into words. But that didn't stop him from believing his own version of it. He always felt this overwhelming need to protect Jack. To rough him up enough to learn to be tough and take care of himself, but to protect him nonetheless. And when the kid was this _confusing_, Bobby just felt kind of lost.

"It's okay," Bobby replied. "We just have different ways of dealing with things. I understand that. And I didn't always deal the way I do now, so you'll figure it out. But you gotta stop this track you're on."

"I told you. I know that."

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. It's important."

Jack didn't answer.

Bobby wondered if any of that meant anything to Jack. If he'd even listened to a word of it anyway. But that was about all the seriousness that he could muster at this hour, so he didn't try to follow it up with anything. Instead, he turned back to humor.

"Plus," Bobby persisted, "it's very unfairy-like."

Jack's face clouded over.

"Don't you agree?" Bobby asked.

"Fuck you," Jack retorted.

"Seriously. What will all your little fairy friends say? I think there needs to be like a fairy intervention."

Jack looked up at him with a scowl, narrowing his eyes.

"What?" Bobby replied, enjoying Jack's expression immensely. What Jack had yet to learn was the power of reactions as a motivation for Bobby. He loved getting someone riled up. Jack's face always became a sea of emotions, and his eyes spoke a thousand words. And this reaction was fantastic. "No?"

Jack glared. "Stop it."

"Stop what? What's the fairy gonna do?"

"Fuck off," Jack snapped, and then reached out from his seat on the toilet to shove Bobby backwards with a hard push against his shoulders. Not expecting the move, Bobby slid back off his perch on the bathtub wall straight into the tub, nearly taking down the shower curtain. His legs remained hanging over the side, and he laughed aloud despite the ache in his arms from his elbows hitting the tub basin. It was hilarious to him. "Fuck, Jackie… Too much."

"Stop calling me that," Jack said stiffly.

"Aw, sweetheart, I really can't…" Bobby answered. "It's too perfect." Then he noticed where Jack was reaching next and started to quickly get up, but it was too late.

Jack promptly pulled the on the knob of the shower, releasing a cold, strong flow of water from the showerhead before getting up from his own seat, which he knew was within easy reach of retaliation.

Bobby nearly screamed as the cold water hit him, frustrated he hadn't gotten out fast enough. He stretched to shut the water off, but not soon enough to avoid the freezing cold blast.

"That was a mistake," Bobby warned as he pushed himself up from the slippery tub and promptly moved forward to grab a retreating Jack by the arm. "You think you can just get away with that?" He wasn't angry, but it was well-deserving a response anyway.

Jack pulled from Bobby's wet grasp. "No," he objected. "Stop. You deserved it."

"Well, then you deserve this," Bobby retorted, taking him around the waist and pulling him back towards the tub.

"Stop!" Jack nearly shrieked, cursing at his lack of comparative strength. He struggled against Bobby's stronghold, trying plant his feet on the now slippery tile floor. He'd nearly been dragged into the tub when from the doorway a voice made Bobby pause.

"What the fuck?" came Angel's confused voice. "Ya'll are so fucking loud, you know that? And weird. What the hell are you doing?"

Jack was nearly able to pull away with the distraction, managing to get himself a couple feet from the tub before Bobby hastily grabbed him again and after a bit of a struggle forced him to the ground, pinning him belly down on the now soaked bathroom floor. "Let go…" he warned, feeling Bobby's knee against his back. He squirmed and looked up from the floor at Angel, who looked incredulous.

"Ya'll are gonna wake up Ma," Angel warned them. "What the hell are you doing to him, Bobby?"

"Just giving him some of his own medicine," Bobby answered, putting more his weight onto a wiggling Jack to keep him down.

"Let me up!" Jack protested, nearly whimpering. He let out a frustrated groan, pushing against the floor.

"Quit crying," Bobby ordered.

Angel looked at the two doubtfully. "Bobby, you're gonna give him a panic attack," he warned. "Let him up. You know he hates that."

Bobby ignored him and the writhing Jack, asking instead, "Did we really wake you?"

"No, I got up to piss, but heard ya'll so came down."

"Is Ma's door closed?" Bobby asked, suddenly realizing how loud they had been, even if it was just in the last couple minutes.

"Yeah," Angel answered. "Seriously, Bobby, stop bullying him."

"You wanna draw on him or something?" Bobby offered.

"No. Grow up. Look at him, man. He's gonna freak out. Let him up or you'll definitely wake up Mom, and she hates when you torment him."

"I'm not tormenting him."

"Get off!" Jack wailed.

"Why are you even still up anyway?" Angel studied Jack's now flushed face and kind of felt bad for him, knowing full well what it felt like to be the object of Bobby's harassment. Then he noticed his arm, frowning. "Dude, are you bleeding?"

Jack glanced at his own arm, knowing the bandaids looked suspect enough but now noticing that one of them had become displaced, allowing some blood to show. "I'm not," he said sourly.

"What'd you do to your arm?" Angel asked.

"Nothing," Jack persisted.

Angel looked at Bobby who just shrugged.

"Okay," Angel sighed, deciding it wasn't worth it. "Well, thanks for the freak show, but I'm going to go back to bed. You both need to shut up and go to sleep..."

As Angel walked away, Bobby looked down at Jack and said, "You get one chance. Tell me why I shouldn't throw you in a cold shower.

Jack squirmed, feeling increasingly frustrated at Bobby's weight on him. "Let me GO!" he persisted, growing upset. "I'll kill you!"

"You'll kill me?" Then Bobby started to feel bad when Jack kind of just whimpered, reminding himself that restraining Jack was one of the worst things to do to the kid in terms of potential reactions. He could very well make him freak out just like Angel warned. He started to lift his weight off of him and sat back on the floor beside him instead.

Jack stayed down for a minute, although not trusting the sudden release and took a few deep breaths.

"I'm done," Bobby said. "You done?"

Jack nodded.

"Truce, this time," Bobby told him, reaching over to rub Jack's back for a moment. "Kudos on catching me off guard." When Jack didn't move, he persisted, "I mean it, it's over. I won't touch you."

Slowly, Jack moved to sit up.

Bobby wrung out the edge of his shirt a little bit and water dripped onto the floor. "You're lucky you didn't break the shower curtain…" Bobby shook his head.

"Would've been you breaking it," Jack replied.

Bobby gave him a look. "Indirectly."

"No, directly. You'd've been the one pulling it down."

Bobby rolled his eyes and then started to get to his feet. "Not sure that'd fly." He pulled a towel from the rack on the wall and rubbed it over his wet hair. Then he dropped it on the floor near the tub where he noticed a puddle of water. He tiredly wiped it up with the towel using his foot. "You oughtta get ready for bed. You might have school."

Jack looked at him in alarm. "No. I don't."

Bobby bent down to pick up the towel. "Did Mom say you should stay home?"

Jack paused. "No," he admitted. "We didn't talk about it."

"Well, then." Bobby shrugged. "Maybe you do, maybe you don't."

"I can't."

Giving him a skeptical look, Bobby replied, "You know, staying up late and dicking around isn't really a good reason not to go."

"But you said—"

"Do I look in charge here?" Bobby replied. "Man, I get vetoed all the time under this roof so don't gimme that look."

"You said no one would wake me up in the morning."

"No, I said I _doubted _anybody would wake you up. So yeah, I think you have a good chance of being a loser at home tomorrow. But even as lucky as I have been today, what, with not getting busted for possession and all, I wouldn't call myself infallible."

Jack frowned at the answer. First because he didn't know what infallible meant, and second because he really didn't want to go to school tomorrow. There were numerous reasons for that. He hadn't been planning on it, and as much as that shouldn't mean anything, it did because he didn't like things going against plan.

He felt a large lump of anxiety in his gut when he thought about going back, mostly because he had vague memories of just how whacked out he'd acted the day he went to the hospital. And even if he hoped most of it was just in his head, he couldn't be sure. Everyone already thought he was a freak as it was. Now for sure they'd think something was wrong with him.

"What's the matter?" Bobby asked, nudging Jack with his foot. "Get up."

Jack snapped out of his stupor and climbed to his feet, watching Bobby throw the dampened towel over the shower rod. He supposed there was something wrong with him.

Bobby walked out of the bathroom, pulling off his shirt as he went, and mumbled something about more laundry. Jack followed him after turning off the light in the bathroom behind them.

"Bobby, wanna watch TV?" Jack asked.

Bobby turned and looked at him like he was crazy. "No." He twisted his shirt in his hand, wringing water out while thinking water couldn't stain as it dripped onto the carpet. "I wanna go to sleep."

"Alright."

"You should too," Bobby answered. "It's getting late." He watched Jack stare off towards the other side of the house distractedly.

"I like falling asleep doing something," Jack explained.

"Well, then go jack off, Jack, and go to sleep," Bobby told him. He started for his own room. "Thanks for the second shower and near concussion."

Jack watched him leave quietly. He was exhausted as well, but knew that he would have trouble falling asleep anyway.

When he heard Bobby's door shut loudly, he sighed and headed to his own room.

* * *

"Jack staying home today?" Bobby asked Evelyn through a large mouthful of cereal the next morning. 

"Does this look a barn, Bobby?" she replied, eyeing him from across the table.

"Yes," he answered, still chewing.

With a roll of the eyes, she whacked him in the arm with her newspaper. "Oh, please."

He crunched on the cereal for a few more seconds before he swallowed. "Well, is he?"

"I haven't decided. I'll get him up and see how he seems."

Bobby paused, eyeing his spoon. "I don't think he should go…"

She looked at him curiously. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean…" He shrugged. "I think he needs a break, that's all."

"You know, life doesn't give people breaks, Bobby. In fact, most people just have to buckle up and keep going. Besides, do you know how much school he's missed?"

"Not exactly."

"A lot. Between the days he just plays hooky and the other days where he cuts out early… I mean… They'll hold him back. Without even a hesitation."

"Oh, no they won't," Bobby answered with a slight hint of exasperation. "Not for a medical emergency."

"They're just going to see it as drugs once they get an explanation, Bobby. That's barely a medical emergency."

"Oh, come on. You expect me to believe that you'll accept that? He was in the hospital. It was exhaustion."

"He's getting too old for me to make excuses for him."

"It was exhaustion though. Self-induced, but that's what exhaustion is…" Bobby studied Evelyn's no-nonsense expression and frowned. "You're going to be hard on him, aren't you?"

"Something's gotta give."

"Ma, come on. He's a saint compared to the rest of us at his age." Bobby dug his spoon back into his cereal and filled his mouth once again, this time with a more reasonable amount that he chewed politely.

"And maybe that's why I've babied him," she answered. "And look what that's done."

"Everybody babies him," Bobby replied. "You basically made us." He caught her look and started again. "I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean…" He shrugged. "I mean, it just seems like the thing to do. And still, he's just fifteen. I say give him a break. It's a rough age."

"Speaking of giving him a break..." Evelyn took a sip of her coffee and eyed her oldest son.

Bobby returned the look warily. He sensed the oncoming conversation. "This is about last night, right?"

She nodded.

"I know you're not happy about the way I handled that," he allowed. "I just wanted to get him out of the house and… Well, out of his little world. And Angel wanted to go, and we got Jerry too…"

"You knew he was high."

He paused. "No… I—"

"Don't lie to me, Bobby."

Bobby let out a breath. "Well, yeah…" he confessed. "I did. But… It wasn't gonna change that, him going with me," he persisted. "It was already said and done. It's not like I got him high or anything. You know I didn't do that."

"That just facilitates it, Bobby."

"What happened to the whole not judging thing?" he replied with a smirk. "Isn't that what you told me?"

"This is something you have to take seriously," she told him. "It's the whole fact you're not that bothers me. Last night you didn't take me seriously, right now you're not taking his whole problem seriously."

"I am," he replied firmly. "I am. I mean, last night I shouldn't have crossed you. I know that. I don't know what I thought I was defending him from; it's just I wanted to do something real with him. I need it to be concrete. Physical."

"Did you say anything to him about being high?"

"Sure," Bobby said. "He knows I'm not going to pat him on the back for that, Ma. It's not like he flaunts it in my face. It's just becoming obvious." He thought about it. "I thought it would be funny to play hockey while he was blazed too…" he chuckled.

"It's not funny."

Bobby slouched back in his chair. "I know you're mad. And at me too, and I understand that, but it's what's done, and I'm not making a joke out of it."

"If you would just talk to him, Bobby… Instead of just all the teasing about everything. Sometimes I don't even understand why he still clings to you like he does with all the teasing you do, except that he's a creature of routine, even if the routine hurts."

"I don't hurt him," Bobby replied. "And I do talk to him. Who do you think he talks to?"

Evelyn didn't answer. She took another long sip of her coffee, hand wrapped around the warm cup.

"He talks to me," Bobby persisted. "After all the hundred failed attempts of mine to start conversations, eventually he'll talk to me." He poked at his cereal. "Like he did last night."

"I think I'm going to insist he see his doctor again. I know that sounds like a copout, and I agree sometimes therapy is exactly that, but I think it really helped him when he was younger. I know he'll hate me for it, but what do you think?"

"He hurt himself again last night."

Evelyn looked up from her cup of coffee at Bobby, watching him swirl the milk around in his cereal. She hesitated. "Did he really?"

Bobby gave her a look, brow furrowed. Sarcastically he replied, "No, I'm joking about that too."

"Bobby, I know you don't joke around when it's important. What happened?"

Bobby just shrugged. "I don't know. It was after we got back last night. I don't even know. It's just fucking disturbing."

"It's a false sense of relief."

"I don't care what it is. It's disturbing." He shook his head. "He said he was going to talk to you. I was going to wake you up but I figured I shouldn't. It was late."

"He woke you up?"

"No, it was right before I went to bed," Bobby answered. "But yeah, he just sitting in my room when I got out of the shower, like he wanted to talk about it." He looked up at her. "See? I do talk to him."

She sighed. "I know you do, Bobby…" After a pause, she persisted. "So what did you tell him?"

He rolled his eyes. "That he's fucking crazy. That's what I told him."

"No you didn't."

"More or less. I mean, it was bad. And even when he tries to explain it, not that there's any way to make sense of it, it's still bad."

"You didn't tell him he was crazy though."

"So what if I did?" Bobby shrugged. "But you're not gonna wake him up, are you really?"

"I think he should get up. Even if he doesn't go, he has work to do."

"Yeah, that paper. Personally I think it's ridiculous he has to still write a paper for that class."

"Deciding to be self-destructive is not a very good excuse for getting out of doing your homework."

"Well, if not for that class he wouldn't have been self-destructive.

"Well, maybe he would have gone to bed that night," Evelyn replied, "but you're kidding yourself if you think that everything else was just part of the so-called experiment."

"Yeah, I know. But there would've been no hospital, no freak out, none of that…" Bobby answered. He ate another spoonful of cereal.

"I guess it's almost a blessing in disguise he deprived himself of sleep. It made him a little less of a good of a pretender."

"Yeah." Bobby paused. "But what's he supposed to write his paper on?"

"That's up to him."

"Well, whatever. He won't do it."

Evelyn looked at him. Bobby crunched on another mouthful of cereal. "Yes, he will. But if you tell him you think he won't, then he won't."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "What, no reverse psychology?"

"Not when you give someone a convenient excuse not to do something they already don't want to. It's like, what point does he have to do it? You already thought he wouldn't."

"To prove me wrong," Bobby persisted. "He always wants to prove me wrong. This whole fucking thing was exactly that."

"It's to please you, Bobby."

"How was being a lunatic supposed to please me?"

"Maybe in his mind staying up was impressive."

"Yeah," Bobby scoffed. "Real impressive. He's an idiot."

"Idiot or not." She sighed. "I need to wake him up."

"For what? I'll keep an eye on him while you're at work. Which, by the way," he eyed her bathrobe, "you seem in no rush to get to."

"I'm not going to work today. And I need to get him up so that I make an effort like I'd prefer him to go to school." She glanced at the clock.

"Just call his school, go to work, and don't worry about it," Bobby answered. "I'll be fine with him."

"And you'll just stay here all day." She gave him a critical look. "You've barely left him this week. And you're only here for—When do you have to get back?"

Bobby shrugged. "To be honest, my plan was just to stay this week, so I should really be on the road maybe tomorrow… Maybe the day after…."

"Okay, well you need to let me know when you decide. But either way, I'm sure you'd rather get out of the house today than watch him. And I don't want him alone, so I figure it's a good time for me to finally talk to him."

"I have to do laundry and packing today, so there won't be anything to go out of the house for," Bobby answered. "Don't worry about it. Go to work."

"Already called and told them I wasn't coming in." She pushed back her chair, getting up and yawning a little. "I need a family day. And I want to talk to him."

"For the whole day?"

She eyed him as she walked over to turn off the coffeemaker. "Not the _whole _day. What's wrong? You don't want me to talk to him?"

"No, you should."

"Then why do you keep telling me to go to work?"

Bobby smirked. "Just because I think he's going to want to go to school when he finds out you're not going to work."

She gave him a wary look, but Bobby had already moved on.

"I'm still hungry," he said, pushing his bowl of cereal away. "I'm going to make something. French Toast."

* * *

Jack couldn't help but agree with Bobby's words when he realized that Evelyn would be staying home specifically to deal with him. He hated the sinking feeling and suddenly felt even worse than he did from the guilt of eavesdropping from just outside the kitchen. 

He'd woken up at the slightest sound downstairs that morning. First it was someone opening and closing the front door. Maybe Angel left? Maybe someone went to get the paper? He wasn't sure, but he knew it made him sit up straight in bed. Next it was realizing what time it was and beginning to fear actually getting up. Maybe having to go to school. He'd gotten to the point where he felt like he would actually have to go, and not just pretend.

It was when he first dragged himself to the bathroom to pee that he heard the voices downstairs and felt the undeniable realization that someone was talking about him. Maybe it was the paranoia of it, but somehow he could just tell.

He couldn't go back to sleep anyway, not with the anxious heaviness he was feeling, so he instead pulled on a sweatshirt and tiptoed quietly down the stairs.

Over the last few years, he'd learned every inch of those stairs, the creaks and the groans. He was easily able to make it downstairs without the slightest squeak and true to the Mercers teasing that he was quiet and timid as a mouse, he'd inched himself up as close to the kitchen as his stealth courage would allow.

Neither Evelyn nor Bobby's words surprised him or made him feel any differently. He was a little surprised at Bobby's defense of him in terms of school, but it made sense with Bobby's own academic history.

He became nervous at the thought of spending the whole day with Evelyn. He didn't know whether that or spending the whole day with Bobby would be worse. It was hard to say. After the night before with Bobby, he was getting nervous about how much more that man could take of him.

When he heard Evelyn's chair push back, he froze. If she left the kitchen he'd be standing right there in plain view, unable to disguise himself or avoid imminent conversation. It would probably be obvious he'd been there, listening, but if he ran back towards the stairs it would undoubtedly be more obvious.

He walked backwards, edging himself away from his listening spot, towards the stairs.

What are you scared of? He criticized himself. She wasn't going to do anything to him. He was getting too old to be so afraid of everything.

When a moment later she emerged from the kitchen, he simply froze.

She looked surprised to see him. "Good morning, Jack. I was just about to go up and see if you were up."

"Oh…" he responded. "Uh, yeah, I just got up."

She had a slightly suspicious look on her face, or so he thought, but he tried to convince himself he was far enough from the door to elicit any question.

"You feel a little better today?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You hungry?" she asked. "I'm about to take a shower, but Bobby was going to make something."

"Aren't you late for work?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm not going to work today."

He was hoping she hadn't meant that. He paused. "Why not?"

"I thought maybe it would be a good day for me to stay home."

"Why?" He hesitated, knowing the answer, but not wanting to let it show. He would do the same as Bobby and try to act like she should go. And what about him? "Should I go to school?"

"Do you want to go to school?"

He didn't know what to say to that. If he claimed he did, well, that would just be uncharacteristically weird. And if he simply said he didn't, she could speculate why and read into that too. "I… I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think you should think about it and decide," she replied. "I'm going to go upstairs and get myself together, and you let me know when I come back down."

He frowned at her as she walked past him to head upstairs. He stood there for a moment, toying with his options, then walked slowly towards the kitchen, entering in time to see Bobby dropping a loaf of bread on the counter next to the stove.

"Yo," Bobby greeted him. "What's good?"

"Nothing." Jack moved towards the kitchen table and took a seat, eyeing the discarded bowl of cereal.

"Mom was just going to wake you."

"Beat her to it," Jack replied sarcastically.

"You hungry?" Bobby asked. He pulled open the fridge door and took out the carton of eggs.

Jack shrugged.

"I'm making French toast. I make it really good, remember?" Bobby persisted. "Want some?"

Again Jack shrugged.

"What's with you?" Bobby replied. With a sigh, he decided not to take it personally. "Fine, I'm going to take that as a 'Yes, please make me some of your delicious French toast, Bobby, you enviable cook of the Gods'."

Jack just eyed him tiredly, and then said, "I heard your whole conversation."

"What whole conversation?" Bobby replied as he gathered the rest of his ingredients.

"You know. About why she isn't going to work."

"What, you were standing outside while we were talking?" Bobby asked with a frown. Then he just rolled his eyes, not waiting for a response. "Yeah, well, I can't say any of it should be a shock to you."

"Should I go to school?"

"You were crying about going last night, why change your mind now?"

Jack made a face. "Because I don't want to spend my day with her." Jack caught Bobby's look and said, "I mean that in the nicest possible way."

"Well, looks like you have no choice, Flapjack." Bobby yawned and pulled out a bowl from the cabinet. "Right?" He turned to view his brother. "Because don't even think of skipping out again."

"No…" Jack agreed. He rested his head in his hands. "I wouldn't though."

Bobby didn't answer.

Jack watched the man move around the kitchen. "Are you really leaving tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe I could come with you sometime."

"Maybe no."

Jack was a little disappointed with how quickly Bobby responded. "Why?"

"You have enough to do here," he told him. "Like school. And most of the time I'm training or going somewhere for a game, so it's not even like I'd have time to watch you."

"I don't need to be watched."

"Right, well, you know what I mean."

"I want to go somewhere too."

"Well, how about you get a little older, go to class and actually graduate one day, and then you can fly the coop." Bobby broke an egg into the bowl, dropping the empty shell on the counter. He reached for another egg. "You'll talk to her today, and you'll get it off your chest, and it'll be fine. Get over it."

Jack swallowed. "You told her."

"Told her what?"

"About last night."

Bobby took a deep breath. Of course Jack knew it, he'd just admitted to eavesdropping, so he couldn't deny it. "Yeah. I did. I mean… What was I supposed to do? Besides, you're the one dragging the inevitable out."

Jack watched Bobby pull out a stack of bread from the bag and objected. "Bobby. Don't make so much. I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am," Bobby responded. "Besides, I know you're gonna have some." He glanced at him. "You want me to show you how to make it?"

"No…" Jack sighed. "You've already shown me."

Bobby frowned. "Fine…"

Jack traced a finger along the edge of the table. "You still shouldn't have told her."

"Now you don't have to," Bobby replied. "I did you a favor. Now tell me this… What's the worst possible outcome of talking to her?"

Jack shrugged.

"Seriously," Bobby persisted. "Tell me what the worst is that could happen."

"I don't know."

"You must. Or else what are you afraid of?"

"I don't want you to go, Bobby…" Jack made a face. "You always go."

"I'm not leaving today, so don't do this now. Answer my question."

With slumped shoulders, Jack frowned at the table. "I don't know. I just don't wanna talk about it."

"Normally you like talking to her." Bobby moved to turn on the oven range. "And I know things have been crazy this last week, but let's not run around in circles with this crap, alright? I'm not going to go through this whole thing with you again. You know what I think."

Jack took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to go to school."

Bobby laughed, dropping an egg and cinnamon covered piece of bread onto the frying pan. "No." He shook his head. "Man, don't even."

"I'm going to get dressed." Jack pushed back his chair.

Bobby dropped one more piece of bread on the frying pan before turning to give Jack a look. "Just take a seat, Jack, and consider today a freebie."

"No, it's not." Jack stood there. "And I don't want to get suspended or anything."

"You won't. Just sit."

"I can talk to her after school."

"You don't actually want to go to school, so stop it."

Jack didn't want to go to school. He wanted to go back to bed. But he was too restless, and despite the hours of sleep he had to catch up on, that wasn't how it worked. He had slept enough for now.

Bobby adjusted the oven range heat and wiped some egg off of his hands before turning away from the stove. He walked towards the fridge. "You want juice?"

Jack looked at the clock.

Pulling out the juice carton from the refrigerator, Bobby next grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and walked towards the table, setting them down. "Don't look at the time. You're not going anywhere."

"Why would you tell me _not _to go to school?" Jack replied, eyeing him skeptically.

"Because." Bobby returned his look. "I'll tell you why. Say you go, and you actually make it through the school doors. Do you really expect to make it through the whole day, and to every single class?" He raised his eyebrows. "Honestly? I don't think you would. Not just yet. And then they call here, tell Ma that you're skipping _again_, and then she tells me because she tells me every time she's disappointed about anything. Then I kick your ass because enough is enough and it makes me feel better, and then nobody is happy."

"I would too stay."

"Well, I don't think you would. And you've done nothing recently to make me think otherwise. So I say we avoid all that shit, and you stay home, fix things between you and Ma, and make me able to leave thinking you're all okay."

Jack got a thoughtful look on his face.

Bobby noticed the look and immediately shook his head. "No. Don't even think about it. If your shit's not in order, I'm leaving anyway. Have some juice." He walked back to the stove, grabbing the spatula to flip the bread over in the pan. "Oh, and how's your arm?"

"Fine," Jack replied bitterly.

Bobby said nothing else, letting Jack just sit there in his self-created misery as he continued to make French toast. When he had several pieces piled high on a plate, he decided that was good for now and turned off the oven range.

He located a bottle of maple syrup and placed it with the plate on the table. Then he got two extra plates, forks, and knives before sitting down.

"I told you I'm not hungry," Jack objected, staring at the plate in front of him.

"Please...?" Bobby asked.

Jack hunched his shoulders a bit, frowning as his brother dropped three pieces of French toast on both their plates. He really wasn't hungry. He wasn't a huge morning food person, especially when he had so much on his mind.

Bobby ignored him, pouring a generous amount of syrup on his plate and taking a huge bite. After a couple more bites, he noticed Jack slowly pick up his own fork. He didn't say anything, not wanting to jinx it, and instead devoured a slice of his own French toast, congratulating himself mentally on being a master of the frying pan.

* * *

Jack knew it was coming. He just didn't want to admit it to himself or anybody else. But Bobby was right, it wasn't something he could run from anymore, and it was something he would have to face, sooner or later. 

Sooner really was better than later if you thought about it. Later entailed endless worry, undesirable anticipation, and anxiety over the unknown.

Normally when he felt something was coming, it was a feeling of dread. Regardless of whether it might be good, anticipation equated bad to him. So that was the way he felt in the case of Evelyn approaching him to talk, and he couldn't help it. He felt that way out of habit.

Bobby was doing laundry, and Jack hadn't even gotten a chance to shower or change. That was his own fault really, considering after breakfast he'd simply collapsed on the couch in front of the TV. Evelyn soon was on the other side of the couch, making small talk that adeptly led into a more serious conversation.

Somehow starting from a conversation about whether he needed new sneakers, Evelyn somehow led him into the last week. He was exasperated about how she was able to do that, and slouched down to to wonder how he could move to do something else without making it obvious that he didn't want to talk, but in the end he found himself there, stuck and targeted.

He just listened initially, mostly watching the TV with a stiff posture that tried to portray listening, but as Evelyn edged into more direct, more serious converstion, he had no choice but to listen a little bit more and give small answers. He had to admit that she explained things really well.

Somehow it wasn't as easy to make excuses or speak freely like he had with Bobby the night before. He wasn't sure exactly why. There were more terms of endearment from Evelyn, a more patient tone, more questions rather than accusations, but despite all that he still felt like he had more to prove, or at least more to make up for.

He knew deep down he didn't have to fear either of them, but for whatever reason he still did. No matter how much time passed, he still began to feel that things were temporary whenever something seemed to go wrong. He still felt their sentiments were an insincere act or the paperwork for him to stay there was just a muse.

At the same time, thinking that was a distraction, because wasn't it his fault to begin with.

"Jack," she said. "Are you listening?"

He glanced at her, away from the TV for once, and nodded. "Yeah."

"You understand what I'm saying then."

Jack didn't understand. It was the same old story about everything, just a slightly different version. It wasn't until her next words that he actually started to think about it.

"You know, Jack," she said. "All your life, no matter what the circumstance, you'll have emotional scars. From this, that, or the other. So what would make you want physical scars as well?"

He didn't have a good answer for that. It was a really good point, but he didn't even really have the words to tell her that either. Instead he just kind of shrugged, because that was all he was really good at doing.

Then he asked, "Is Bobby leaving tomorrow?"

She gave him a look. "Honey, we're not talking about Bobby. We're talking about you."

"Is he leaving?"

"Maybe." She eyed him. "Don't worry about him for now."

"But I don't want him to go."

"He'll be back soon enough. You know that."

"No," Jack objected. Bobby's visits were irregular, and normally unplanned. He dropped in like it was nothing, yet to actually expect him to be somewhere was a challenge.

"Well, then you have to talk to him about that. He's a grown man, Jack. He can come when he wants," she replied.

Jack just made a face. If he wanted to come, then he would.

"But we're talking about you, right now, Jack," she replied. "Don't try to change the subject on me."

"I'm not."

"You heard what I said then."

Jack nodded. "I did."

"Are you going to say anything?"

He made a face and repeated, "I did."

She sighed. "You asked about Bobby."

He nodded. Saying anything should include that, he thought.

"Would you rather talk to him?" she persisted.

"No," Jack persisted. If he talked to Bobby, it would simply turn back into threats to talk to Evelyn. Like that was the magic fix about everything. It wasn't. It definitely wasn't. And that was nothing against Evelyn. There just was no magic fix.

"You talked to him last night," she told him, like he didn't know. He did know, but it was some distant memory. "You told him about how you cut your arm."

He pressed his lips together, eyeing his long sleeved shirt, although blaming it for revealing his secrets despite its covering.

"Whether you burn, or cut..." she continued. "I think it's the same purpose."

He shrugged, sighing. Why couldn't he disappear when he wanted? Here comes the judgment, he thought sadly.

"It started with the sleep," she said. "A challenge... But there was more. More before I even knew to look for more, right?"

"I guess."

She sighed. "Honey, I'm not here to to just speculate and have you blindly agree with me. I want you to be able to explain what you're thinking."

"I know," he replied. "But right now I'm not really thinking anything." He paused. "You know?" He gestured at the TV. "I'm just thinking about watching TV."

"Holding it in..." She shook her head. "It's not good."

"I told Bobby last night because I was in the middle of it last night," he said, glancing at her. "I'm not in it now." He frowned. "It's hard to talk about it when I'm not in it."

"Yeah... I know, Jack... But you've always fought to hold things in until it's just too much. Why wait until it's too much?" She paused. "Just because you're used to doing something or accepting something, doesn't mean you have to."

He took a deep breath, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling, hesitating in his response.

"I know it's hard," she persisted, before he could say anything. "Let's get past the whole hard part, and remember who you're talking to, alright? And if you have a reason for not talking to me, then we should talk about that."

"No," he admitted. "No reason."

She nodded. "Okay. Well, let's talk about last night, okay?"

Last night? Jack thought. He wasn't sure what she meant. What part of last night? Was it because he and Bobby had been up late, maybe too loud?

"You know how I feel about you getting high, Jack. And drugs in general." She shook her head. "It's just downhill from there. You know that. Even your brothers tell you that."

That part of last night... Jack had almost forgotten about it.

"No gateway speech," she said stiffly. "No side effects speech. You're not dumb and you don't need it repeated. You're just not the one to usually let me down, Jack. And I have to say, this past week has been pretty disappointing."

He slouched down a little, feeling her eye on him. "Yeah, well..." he mumbled.

"Missing school, being in the hospital, the drugs... Should I go on? What's happening, Jack?"

He made a face.

"Do you even remember the details of the hospital?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you really?"

He didn't. He remembered parts of it, sure. But for the most part he remembered just feeling exhausted and being forced to rest. He definitely didn't recall being anyone's favorite person during that ordeal. So he didn't answer again.

"I made you an appointment. With Dr. Probe. It's for Tuesday."

He paused. "No. You didn't. You're just saying that." He looked at her, and tried to read her expression. She always had the same look in her eye, one like she was trying to look through you into your soul, like she was worried, and it ate through him, made him feel guilty.

"Why would I just say that?"

"Because. You wouldn't do that."

"You had no problem seeing her before, Jack. I let you decide that you were comfortable to stop, but I think it might help to talk to her again. The point is that when something's wrong, you need to express that thing that's wrong. You don't need to cover it up, and you don't need to replace it. You need to fix the root of it."

He shook his head. "I'm not going on Tuesday."

"The root of it might be from long ago," she persisted. "And deep down I think you know who or what your own demons are, Jack. Only you know what's truly in your head and in your memories, and why it bothers you when it does. Why it bothers you when people come or go within a certain distance. But you can figure it out and control it."

He continued to shake his head. "No. I'm not going."

"Are there any drugs in your room, Jack?"

He frowned at her. Wasn't she listening? He wasn't going on Tuesday. No matter how nice that doctor pretended to be, there was something about going there and sitting there and having her look at him and only him that made it unbearable. "No."

"Well, if there are, you're going to get rid of it," she said. "All of it."

He wanted to respond to that. About how he knew she'd done things in her past, and how Bobby had joked about her being a hippie in her day. Or how Angel definitely had stuff around that she didn't know or say anything about. But he didn't. Instead he just stared at his hands.

"You listening?" she persisted. "It's trouble, Jack, and in my house it won't happen. A simple charge of possession, or intent if you had enough of it for them to think that... Well, that's not going to happen. Never mind just being caught in school and getting yourself suspended."

"Yeah."

"You're fifteen. Enough. Being a teenager is tough but we've all gone through it. And drugs don't make it any easier, or make it go by any faster. A few little things add up to a lot. Ask Bobby. He did his time in juvie to know."

"Yeah." He didn't want to ask Bobby. He also didn't think a little bit of weed would pave the road to juvenile hall but he didn't want to question her on that either. She would certainly come back with something else to make him feel worse.

She continued to talk, and it was a lot of what he'd heard before, both from her and others. And it was completely right and not much he had any good response to. Regardless, he tried to pay attention to it and keep a skeptical look off his face, but the whole time he couldn't help but think that he would be back with the same old therapist on Tuesday. He had his habit to block out these lectures, but this time, he felt enough was enough, like she said, and tried.

Did she really mean it? He would have to talk to a therapist again?

He figured he brought it on himself with all of this. And it was really stupid, everything he'd been doing. Just kind of letting himself spiral. Not sleeping, as much as he thought he'd been proving his will, had done nothing.

"Are you listening?"

Jack looked up and was about to insist he was, at least half-listening, when Bobby walked into the room, a frown on his face. He looked between them and then crossed his arms over his chest. "Mom."

Evelyn sighed and looked up at her oldest son. "What, Bobby?"

"Question..." he began. "What do I do if I think I might've maybe possibly thought I put a pen in the dryer on accident?"

"Might've maybe possibly thought?" she echoed.

"Uh..." Bobby took a deep breath.

"Bobby, what'd you do to my dryer?"

"I don't know. I'm just asking. Hypothetically."

"You know I don't believe in your hypotheticals."

"Well, then what do you do?"

"You have a lot of clothes in there?"

"Maybe?" He looked hesitant. "Are they completely ruined?"

"I don't know." Evelyn looked at Jack, who sat complacently on the couch staring at the TV.

Bobby looked at both of them and shook his head. "It's okay. Forget it. I know you guys are talking. I can figure it out."

"Is it all over my dryer?"

Bobby looked pathetic. "Maybe."

"Oh, Bobby..."

"I swear it's not my pen."

"Then where did it come from?"

"No idea."

"How many times have I told you to check your pockets?" she answered, getting up off the couch. "You did this with chapstick once too, remember?"

He shook his head. "Just tell me what to do. It's fine."

"We're done, she can help you," Jack said.

Bobby and Evelyn both turned to look at him. Suddenly he felt small and looked back at the TV.

"I'll look at it," Evelyn told Bobby. "Why don't you tell your brother about juvie?"

Bobby laughed out loud and then realized she was serious. So he resolved to a smirk and watched her leave the room before flopping down on the couch beside his brother and reaching over to slap him on the thigh. "Juvie, huh?"

"She's crazy." Jack stared at the TV.

Bobby looked at his ink covered hand. "I think I ruined the dryer. She's going to hate me."

"It'll come out."

"Ink? No it doesn't."

"Sure it does."

"Who are you, Martha Stewart? It's permanent ink. And it's _all over_. Like on the clothes, _in _the dryer. When I say everywhere, it's everywhere."

Jack shrugged.

"I'll be lucky if it even comes off of my hand. See, you don't care because the attention's off you now..." Bobby slouched down, stretching his legs out straight in front of him. "But if I ruined the dryer that's a lot of money."

"Things air dry."

"Air dry," Bobby scoffed. He reached over and rubbed his ink covered hand on Jack's cheek.

Jack pulled away. "What the fuck?"

"Just seeing if it comes off," Bobby answered, disappointed to find that the ink was indeed dried onto his hand and his hand only. He sighed. "What's this juvie thing? You didn't do anything worth that."

Jack shrugged.

"I remember this speech of hers," Bobby persisted. "Not that you're anywhere near it. But I think I remember her telling me to tell Angel about why to calm his ass down before, and I guess I didn't do it right or whatever, because a year later... Guess where Angel was?" He laughed. "You weren't around yet."

"Nope."

"They shave your head there," Bobby persisted, reaching over to pull at Jack's locks. "No more rockstar look."

Jack slapped his hand away. "No, they don't."

"How do you know?"

"No one ever shaved your head."

"Because I'd kick their ass. You on the other hand would probably just cry."

Jack just shook his head. "Bobby, they don't shave anybody's head."

"You don't know that."

"I do know it. And they _don't_."

Bobby laughed at his insistence. "Okay, Jack. Of course you know. You obviously know everything."

Jack just shook his head, scowling.

Bobby waited a minute, eyeing the TV and sighing at the silence from Jack, then changed the subject. "You talking over a lot with Mom?"

Jack shrugged. "Like you care. Go do your laundry, Bobby."

"Can't. Remember I fucked it up."

"Yeah. Shocking."

"Come on..." Bobby sighed.

"No. I'm already having this conversation. I don't need to have it with you too."

"Well, fine... I just figured I'd ask because it's your last chance to do it in person for a while."

Jack glanced at him, remaining stoic.

"I think I'm leaving sometime tonight," Bobby continued. "Only because I was thinking about how the traffic would be if I leave tomorrow morning. And it just makes sense to get on the road tonight. I mean, I'd like to get my laundry figured out before I go, but still... Not like I need clean clothes."

Jack simply nodded, focusing back on the TV.

"That okay?" Bobby persisted.

"Why wouldn't it be okay? You just said the traffic's better."

"I meant okay with you."

Jack shrugged. "Yeah..." he muttered. "Of course."

"You sure? I know I said tomorrow, but I'd rather not sit in traffic all morning if I don't have to."

"Don't make yourself seem so important. I really don't care when you leave."

Bobby sighed and pushed himself up off the couch. "I'm going to see if Mom needs help." With no answer from Jack, he just walked out towards the laundry room. He found Evelyn there, picking through his ink stained clothes.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"Fortunately," she began, "most of these shirts are ones I told you to get rid of years ago."

"Oh no..." Bobby reached out to take a Bud Light shirt into his hands. "I love this shirt."

"It's nearly threads left."

"Still. You gotta wear the shirts for a few years and then they become perfectly worn in."

"Throw them out."

"Can't you get the ink out?"

"I'm not even going to try." She pulled out a pair of jeans, scrutinizing them. "These are dark enough you can't even tell."

"Yeah..." he agreed. "And... What about the dryer?"

She looked at him and took a deep breath. "That's a bigger challenge."

"What do I need to do?"

"Well, ink's tough to get off off. I'm not sure if it'll stay or get on clothes if you leave it... I'm thinking maybe rubbing alcohol or nail polish remover. Those are the only two things I can think of that get nearly anything out."

"I'll try it. You go talk to Jack, and I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah... Listen, I have old rags right under the sink that I use for dusting. You can use those trying to clean it off. And if you can't get it off... Just try a load of dark clothes..." She gave him a look. "I know you don't separate your colors, but this time, try it. And check your pockets."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Bobby," she assured.

He took her arm, pulling her away from the dryer. "It's fine, leave it. Go talk to him."

"I'm sure he was thrilled you broke up our conversation," she replied, moving towards the door of the small room.

"He giving you a hard time?"

"No, not really. He's just like a brick wall sometimes. I mean he says one thing to me, mostly to appease me, and then God knows what else goes on in his head when he disappears into his room."

"Go through his room."

She frowned. "You know I don't like snooping. I'm torn about that. I would like him to get rid of whatever he has that he shouldn't, but I want to be able to trust him."

"Make him go through it then. If he lies to you, I'll kick his ass."

She shook her head. "Things are so black and white to you, Bobby..."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well it would just be nice to leave tonight and not have to worry about you guys." He sifted through his clothes on the top of the dryer thoughtfully.

"Tonight, Bobby?" She frowned. "You'll at least stay for dinner, right?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Sure, Ma."

"Good. I'll call Jerry too, and see if he'll make it. With the baby. It'll be the whole family. I want to have all my boys together."

For some reason, the way she said that, really hit Bobby. He realized how important something that simple would be to her today, especially with all the stress of recent events. He knew that no matter how well she presented herself and seemed calm and collected, inside it tore her apart. Evelyn wanted to fix the world, but at the same time she struggled just trying to help the four of them.

It was worse when they made it harder.

"He'll come," was all Bobby replied. He told himself he'd make sure all four of them were there. He suddenly felt extremely sympathetic for Evelyn, and how much shit she put up with. Even with the ink in the dryer right now, she wasn't so much as showing a second of anger. If he was her, he felt he would have knocked himself into next week already for doing something so stupid.

"Okay, well let me run upstairs and find you some of my nail polish remover and then you can try that out."

He nodded and watched her leave. A moment later, he shut the dryer door and stalked out of the laundry room, heading back inside. Jack was still on the couch, slouched down with his eyes tiredly locked on the TV. Bobby walked over, stood directly in front of him, and reached down to grab a handful of his shirt, yanking him towards him.

"Listen," Bobby began, not angry, but insistent. "Look at me." When Jack pushed his hand away, pulling back, Bobby adjusted his grip and shook him slightly. "No, listen. When Ma comes back downstairs, I want you to stop being a little bitch about all this, and just talk about what she wants to talk about and end it."

Jack raised his foot against Bobby's leg, pushing him away, but Bobby was persistent. He sank down into the cushion next to him, keeping his brother's shirt fisted in his hand. "No, stop pushing me and listen... It just hit me, something in her voice, and I just don't think you understand what that woman is doing for you and what she's putting up with. Not just you, but in general. But let's make it a little easier for her."

"I'm not doing anything," Jack replied, looking at Bobby's hand gripped on his shirt.

"Exactly," Bobby said stiffly. "Stop being so fucking passive. How about you work on it a little bit and stop stressing her out?"

Jack didn't respond. He didn't know what Evelyn might have said to him inside that would have made him come back out here again.

"And," Bobby persisted, "you need to go through your room, show her some respect, and throw all your stash out. Anything else that is in there. And if you don't tell me you will, and make me believe you will, I'll do it myself."

"I will," Jack replied reflexively.

"Is there more?"

"I don't know. I'll check."

"You're answering what I want so I'll leave you alone. You know if you have more." Bobby knew Jack wasn't completely listening to him, probably because of his approach, so he let go of his shirt and smoothed it down. "Tell me like you mean it."

"I _will_," Jack persisted, leaning back into the couch, relieved to be free. "God..."

"She wants all of us at dinner tonight," Bobby said. "Jerry too. So you're going to act normal for it. She thinks it would be nice for all of us to just sit down together without something crazy going on. How's that sound?"

"Boring."

Bobby leaned across him to pick up the TV controller, turning it off. The room went silent.

"Look... Stop closing people out..." Bobby said in a low voice. "You understand? She's trying to help you."

"Nobody asked you..." Jack replied, giving him a look. "What's your deal?"

"My deal is... Do something... Even start small. Quit smoking."

"I like smoking."

"Well, tough. I like drinking. I don't drink all day long. And I still think you're too young to smoke, but I feel like I've been telling you that forever."

Jack looked at him. "You give up drinking, and I'll give up smoking."

"It's different, Jack."

"Right. Whatever. I knew you wouldn't," Jack retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Smoking cigarettes or weed?"

"Huh?"

"Which would you give up?"

"Doesn't even matter," Jack answered.

"If both, you've gotta deal." Bobby stuck out his hand as if to shake on it.

Jack stared at his outstretched hand. "No. You wouldn't ever do it. And either way, you get to go off and be on your own and none of us know what you do while I'm here having everyone watch me."

"I'd do it," Bobby persisted. "C'mon."

"No. It's not a fair trade."

Bobby at least appreciated a true answer rather than a pretend one. It wasn't uncommon for Jack to agree to make things easier, but it was frustrating either way. "I thought you were into challenges now."

Jack shook his head. "No one likes a quitter."

Bobby narrowed his eyes, feeling annoyed. "Do you ever stick with anything, Jack? Or are you so weak? You didn't make it through the two hundred whatever hours, well, good, but it's pretty fitting. Because you never make it through anything. You quit everything that isn't easy. You know that? That's why you're the fairy."

Jack set his jaw, hurt by the comments, but refusing to answer.

"You hear me?" Bobby persisted. "You're being _weak_." He pushed himself up off the couch. "And no one ever taught you that. You taught yourself that." He looked down at Jack, who just had a dark look on his face. "I know you're listening, but go ahead and pretend to zone out. It's one of the things you're good at."

Jack could hear someone coming down the stairs and knew it was Evelyn. He wasn't sure where he'd rather be at that moment. Between Evelyn telling him to go back to his therapist and Bobby having zero patience on his last day in town, he was starting to feel discouraged again. His plan to be quiet and let them say what they need to say wasn't working either.

Before Evelyn reached the room, Jack lifted his leg again, trying to push Bobby away again with foot. Bobby seemed to ignore him, looking up as Evelyn entered the room a moment later, a bottle of nail polish remover in her hand.

"Here, Bobby," she said, walking over to hand it to him. "Try this."

"Perfect," Bobby replied. "I hope it works."

"Try not to breathe it in, okay? Last thing I need is you breathing in chemicals."

"Oh?" he paused. "Maybe I should have Jack here do it. He loves getting high off of weird things."

Jack kicked him them. Hard.

Bobby winced, stepping away from the couch. "Fuck, Jack. It's the truth." He bent down and rubbed at his stinging shin for a moment, then took a step back towards the couch and reached down to slap Jack hard upside the head. Jack winced and again used his feet to kick him away.

"Both of you, stop," Evelyn demanded, shaking her head when it looked like Bobby was ready to drag his brother off the couch. "You hear me? There's no kicking and no hitting in this house so stop or take it out of my house. Bobby, go fix the dryer."

"Go away, Bobby..." Jack persisted. "Seriously."

"Seriously," Bobby mimicked. He gripped the nail polish remover bottle and sighed. "Fine. I see when my presence is no longer appreciated."

Jack watched him leave without saying another word. He sighed as Evelyn took her seat again on the couch beside him.

This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

At dinner, Evelyn got her wish. It was all four of her boys. Jerry came without Camille, who was at her mother's with the baby, and it was almost like old times. Evelyn was disappointed when Bobby requested ordering in pizza when she asked what he wanted her to cook for them, but then seemed a little relieved not to need to lift a finger in the kitchen. 

Things seemed back to normal, with typical dinnertime arguments and squabbles, kicking under the table, and devouring every last crumb on anyone's plate. And while an extra effort had been made to make sure they were all there, it made them all feel somewhat more complete to be together like that. Conversation stayed away from Jack's craziness, for which he was relieved, and instead Bobby joked about the dryer, which seemed to be okay, and talked about hockey. For once, the level of stress was nearly unnoticeable.

After dinner, Bobby packed up his car with Evelyn at his side. Despite his insistence that she just sit down and not worry about it, she walked with him on each trip outside, talking along the way about this or that and dropping her motherly tidbits of advice about the normal subjects with him: drinking, fighting, impatience, calling home more...

"You really just need to stop," he told her, as she on the last trip out suddenly appeared with a bag of canned food, from tuna to vegetables to soup. "Really."

"Just to get you started again," she answered, putting it into the back of his car before he could object. "You have everything?"

"Yeah... I really didn't have that much, you know?"

She nodded. "Yeah... I know."

"Okay, gotta just say good bye to the stooges, and then get on the road..." he replied.

"Now remember, Bobby," she said as they walked back towards the house. "Leaving now is avoiding traffic and making good time, so there's no need to speed or to try to rush... You'll get there when you get there."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." he agreed, opening the front door. "I know." He walked towards the family room, where he knew Angel was the last time he walked through. Jerry had already said his good byes and headed home. Evelyn walked passed him towards the kitchen.

Bobby eyed his brother on the couch. "Angel."

Angel barely looked up from the TV. "You leaving?"

"Yeah," Bobby replied. "Look at me."

Angel paused for a second, eyes locked on the screen, and then he looked up at Bobby. "Have a safe trip."

"You gotta look at someone when you say good bye," Bobby persisted, walking towards him. "Alright?"

"When you gonna be back around?"

"I dunno. I'm sure it'll be pretty soon."

"Alright then." Angel's eyes shifted back towards the TV. "So I'll see you when I see you."

Bobby stuck out his hand. "Thanks for pretending you care."

Angel nodded, leaning forward slightly to exchange a shake with his brother. "Sure, anytime."

"Fuckwad." Bobby shook his head. "Where's Jackie?"

"Not here," Angel replied. "I think he went upstairs."

"Alright..." Bobby studied him. "You stay outta trouble, okay?"

"Only if you do."

Bobby shook his head and left the room, heading upstairs. Angel was never very verbose when with good byes and Bobby didn't take it personally. He climbed the stairs tiredly, exhausted from being on his feet most of the day and the recent packing. He could hear music playing as he reached the landing and saw Jack's door was open. He approached it slowly, peering in to see Jack reclined back on his bed with his guitar, strumming it lazily with the song on the radio, but mostly just looking like he found some kind of comfort holding it there. He looked up just briefly when he noticed Bobby in his doorway.

"Hey," Bobby said.

"Hey."

"You clean up in here?" Bobby asked him as he walked in.

Jack eyed him carefully and shrugged. "Sure."

"Did you?" Bobby glanced around the room warily and then reminded himself that he'd been lecturing enough for the past few days and Jack already knew all of his worries about his habits. He didn't need to repeat it all now, so instead he just sighed and walked towards the bed as he said, "Look, bud, I'm leaving now. I got everything packed up so I was just coming up to say bye, not give you a hard time."

Jack strummed a couple chords. "Alright."

"You wanna say bye?"

"Bye..." Jack replied nonchalantly, continuing to run his fingers across the strings of the guitar.

"You even gonna look at me?" Bobby frowned. "Come on, man."

Reluctantly, Jack sat up and pushed his guitar off his lap, setting it beside him on the bed. Then he slowly slid off the bed to his feet, walking towards his brother quietly. When he was within reach, Bobby reached out and pulled him close, causing Jack to stiffen just a little but not pull away. Bobby wrapped him in a hug.

"I'll call you," Bobby said.

Jack nodded into his shoulder. He knew Bobby wouldn't call. Bobby rarely called anybody. But it was the thought that counted.

"Promise me you'll be good and quit the stupid stuff, alright?" Bobby persisted, pulling back from his embrace but holding Jack at arms length. "No more hospitals or anything like that. Just normal fifteen year old stuff?"

Jack studied Bobby's untied sneaker. "What's normal?"

Bobby smiled and let go of his little brother. "Interesting question. You'll figure it out. Just be good for Ma in the meantime."

Jack nodded.

"You'll be fine." Bobby paused. "Anyway, I'll be home again soon. So I'll see you in no time anyway. Try not to get any taller in the meantime, okay?"

Jack nodded again, continuing to stare at the floor. "Okay."

Bobby laughed. In general, he felt like it wasn't okay, or something wasn't okay, and he hesitated ending the conversation just yet. It was mostly because he hated saying good bye to anyone important... particularly because he knew he hated anyone to say good bye or leave him. He always felt like he was abandoning them. "Alright, buddy." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta go." He reached up and patted Jack lightly on the cheek. "You know I love you, Jackie. I'll see you soon."

Jack looked up briefly. "Bye, Bobby."

Bobby resisted hugging him again and turned to leave the room, chiding himself for letting certain people in his life turn him into mush and reminding himself that Jack was getting too old to baby him like he had when he was younger. As he walked out the door he grew frustrated at the things he hadn't said but didn't turn back, already hearing the sound of a soft guitar strum as Jack went back to his favorite hobby. Mostly, Bobby had meant to apologize for losing his patience earlier, for calling him weak among other things, and just growing so frustrated. He knew Jack was a good kid who would learn his limits and realize what not to do, and Ma would help him get help for his issues, but often he still forgot to keep his quick tongue in check when dealing with him. Jack knew he didn't mean anything by it.

Or so Bobby hoped.

ooooooooooo

The next day was an attempt at normalcy for all. Jack went to school on time, made his bus, and made it to class. Evelyn went to work, silently praying that Jack would spend the whole day in school, that Angel would show up for his shift on time, and that Bobby wasn't speeding like a maniac anywhere. She didn't think it was too much to ask of any of them. For herself, she continued to think like she had for the past few days how she missed so many warning signs with her boys sometimes, and how far problems had to get before she saw them. Especially with someone like Jack, who was regularly so quiet.

She missed Bobby already. As challenging as he was, and as human and imperfect as he was, he'd grown into a strong individual who had taken upon himself to be the man in their lives, almost as though he wanted to replace that missing piece in his own childhood and life by filling in as that person in other's lives. At this point, Evelyn trusted no one more than Bobby, and she knew he would do anything for his family. Not just out of his need to please, but out of his own need for it.

When he wasn't there, there was a sad lack of his presence. Bobby was someone who was in your face, regardless of what mood anyone, including him, was in. He was loud, opinionated, and physical, so it was painfully obvious when he was gone. Evelyn knew they felt the same way.

She was thinking about this when she came home that day from work, about how it was always an adjustment for her when one of her boys was gone even for a day and how she would happily have them all crowd back into her house if they could. A full house was a happy house in her life.

Finding her front door unlocked, Evelyn put her keys away and walked inside, hearing the TV from the other room. She yawned, exhausted from the day and from the last week in general, and walked into the other room to find Jack sprawled on the couch. She glanced at her watch as she put down her purse.

"I went," Jack said, as though reading her mind.

"To everything?" she asked.

He nodded, stifling a yawn. "Every second of it."

"Did you miss a lot while you were gone?"

He looked at her skeptically. "I don't know."

"How do you not know?" she persisted. "And turn off the TV. I'm sure you have a lot to do, Jack. If you not, you can help me with dinner."

"I told you I'd go to all the classes. I didn't tell you I'd pay attention."

She shook her head. "If you have to repeat this quarter... I swear to God, Jack..."

"I won't," he persisted. Then suddenly he smiled and sat up straighter. "Oh. And guess what?"

Evelyn gave him a suspicious look, feeling like Bobby had when Jack had looked like this before explaining his whole idea to stay up for hours to beat a record. She suddenly felt nervous, wondering what it was schools were teaching kids nowadays. "What, honey?" she asked carefully.

"That class," he said. "The science class I did this whole... thing ... for."

"The 'thing'. Yes..."

"She cancelled the project."

"Cancelled it?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

Evelyn frowned, trying to decide if he looked truthful or whether this was his attempt to explain how suddenly he wouldn't be responsible for writing any kind of paper to make up for the events of the week.

"It's true," Jack persisted. "She said she meant to just have us be creative and stuff, but that it just wasn't working out as an unstructured assignment or something." He smirked. "So you thought what I did was stupid. This one kid caused a chemical fire in his kitchen. 'Cause of some reaction. Which is crazy, if you can just take a few household items and-- Hey, do we have any--"

"Don't even think about it," Evelyn replied. "The answer is no."

"What if I do it outside?"

"What if you never watch TV again?"

Jack frowned but then continued. "This other kid burned himself on dry ice. That is so crazy. I don't even know what dry ice is. It's colder than real ice."

"That's so dangerous..." Evelyn sighed. "So no more project?"

"Nope." Jack smiled. "Nothing. No papers or anything."

"I just don't even understand why she would assign something like this in the first place. You don't teach somebody something by telling them to do what they want. Without guidance it's just a mess. Especially with science. Did she even give any instructions to begin with?"

"It was like... Demonstrate your ability to write an objective, hypothesis, steps, conclusion, and analysis through a performed experiment."

Evelyn gave him a look. "That was it?"

Jack nodded.

"Jack, you could have done nearly nothing and completely the project so simply. Without any of these problems..."

"Well, first I thought of doing something really dumb..." he admitted. "Like having the hypothesis of... Like, ice will melt if it's not in the freezer. But then I thought she'd think I was just trying to do it with no work. You know, not actually do the project."

"I wish you'd done the simple version."

"It would've been boring."

"You prefer this past week over 'boring', Jack?"

"If I could take out the hospital part and some other stuff..." he said. "Then I prefer this week."

She shook her head. "You can't take it out, Jackie. It's a domino effect. It's either one or the other."

He shrugged. "Can't go back now."

"That's true..." she sighed. "Did Bobby call or leave a message?"

"No." He paused. "Why would he?"

"I told him to call when he got in."

"He never has before."

"Yes," she admitted. "But I think we all know that people are capable of change. Right?"

"Not Bobby."

"Honey, you'd be surprised how much Bobby has changed over the years," she answered with a smile.

Jack shrugged. He'd heard many stories of Bobby, some told by the man himself. He had to admit that since he'd been in the house his brother seemed to have grown a little bit more mature or responsible, but for the most part when it came to his own experience, the guy had always treated him mostly the same. Around him Bobby never did anything too crazy. Not like the things he told stories about anyway. But being fifteen, Jack didn't get to go out with him a lot of places either.

"I didn't smoke today," Jack spoke up after a moment of silence. He looked up to catch her expression and added. "Anything."

"Good, Jack." She glanced towards the TV. "It's a step in the right direction... Did Angel say he was coming home for dinner?"

"I don't know." Jack was a little disappointed that she didn't talk more about the fact he hadn't smoked all day, especially since it was true. Truthfully he'd run out of cigarettes and didn't have the cash or time to get more during the day, since he'd made a commitment to stay in class the whole day. "I didn't miss any class either."

Evelyn knew Jack was looking for praise, and she would give it, but not without knowing he realized why. "Good, honey," she said. "I'm glad. But you know, there are certain things that are expectations. It doesn't make me any less happy for you to do them, but I also want you to know that they're expectations. But I think we're already having a better week. Are you caught up on sleep yet?"

"I don't know."

"Sweetheart, I have to start counting how many times you say 'I don't know'..." she replied, almost teasing. "You know a lot more than you let on, and it's dangerous."

Jack smiled at that. He thought it would be nice to be dangerous.

"That wasn't a compliment," she reminded him, making a face. "You boys... Don't know what goes through your head sometimes... But enough. Come on, help me with dinner."

Jack forced himself up. "I want a new challenge," he told her.

Evelyn felt her stomach drop a little bit and didn't want to look at her son just yet. She walked into the kitchen, knowing his was following her and afraid to encourage the conversation. "I don't know if I can handle another one of your challenges, Jack, to be completely honest."

"Not science related."

"Should that make me feel better?"

"Do you know there's a record holder for oldest male stripper?"

"Jack..."

"No, that's not the one I'm doing."

"Well, good, honey. And it better not be most tattoos or piercings either." She walked over and opened the fridge.

"No. But I do want a tattoo. Bobby said I could." He hadn't really, and he'd been drunk, but in Jack's mind he hadn't thought it was a terrible idea either.

"Oh, so you're okay letting Bobby tell you what you can and can't do now?"

"There's also a record for a guy that hicupped for sixty-eight years."

"God, I thought 265 hours of something was bad." She sighed. "Jackie, why don't you read a book about something other than records, okay? History, literature, sociology... How about those things?"

"Can I have the leftover pizza for dinner?" Jack asked, peering into the fridge as she took out chicken.

"Have it for a snack," she replied, taking the chicken over to the stove. "And quit thinking about challenges and records. I have a challenge for you: how about no drugs, alcohol, or anything like that? Certainly if you can give up sleep, you can give up those things. Or find a new stress relief, how about that?" She turned the oven on. "Running, or something."

Jack shrugged.

The phone rang then and Evelyn walked across the room to pick it up. Jack tried to decide if he wanted pizza.

"Hello?" she answered.

Jack nervously watched her expression, wondering why he always worried that a phone call was something bad, maybe about him. It made him so anxious.

"Hi, sweetheart, I'm so happy you-- Oh, that's okay... How was your ride?" She paused. "Really? Good... Can you do me a favor before you do..." She looked at Jack. "Uh-huh... OK. Just... I know you need to go, but I'm putting your brother on so you can tell him why you called... Because, I told you to, Bobby..." Evelyn gestured Jack over and then said, "Here he is," as she handed the phone to Jack.

Jack skeptically put the phone to his ear, confused, and gave a simple, "Yeah?"

"What the fuck?" Bobby replied. "I need to go."

"Okay, then go," Jack answered.

"She pissed at me for not calling earlier or something?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Fuck. I don't know." Jack glanced at Evelyn. "Can I put her back on now?"

"Why do you hate phones so much, you pussy?" Bobby replied. "Fine. Actually, just tell her I need to go. At least I called. Alright?"

"You can't just take the five seconds?"

"Fine, fuck face. If I could hit you through the phone I would. Put her back on."

"Bobby, you shouldn't say that about her, that's terrible," Jack said, as though Bobby said something insulting about their mother. Then he passed the phone back to Evelyn before there was a response.

"Hello?" she said. "Bobby... Don't say that in front of me. Even if it's meant for-- No, I will not pass it on." She shook her head in exasperation. "Okay, well be safe, and I love you... Right... Bye."

Jack just stared at her as she hung up the phone, expecting an explanation.

She simply smiled. "So, Jackie, tell me again that Bobby never calls." She walked over to the stove, looking a bit more content now.

"So now he does." Jack shrugged, watching her. She was nearly beaming, all over an unexpected 'expected' phone call. Every time anyone went anywhere, they were told to call when they got in, let her know they were okay. For years Bobby agreed to and never did. But this time, he had remembered. "Better later than never."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Jack, that's exactly it."

It was a small change but it had a huge affect on her. He was kind of surprised, and first attributed it to his suspicion that Bobby was her favorite, but then realized it was more than that. A lot more than that. And as cliched as the whole thing was, it paralleled her advice perfectly.

Make an effort to do the expected.

Looking at her face now as she began to prepare dinner, he realized it was worth it.

A new challenge after all.

ooooooo


End file.
